


My Anankē

by intermundia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Declarations Of Love, Desk Sex, Domestic Fluff, Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Obi-Wan Kenobi, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Smoking, Spanking, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intermundia/pseuds/intermundia
Summary: Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi has a problem. A tall, messy-haired, frustratingly brilliant problem. It's hard to teach Ancient Greek when Anakin Skywalker is making bedroom eyes at you from the back of the room, but somehow he has to manage. Anakin is a student, off limits, and Obi-Wan would never cross that line. Luckily, being a student comes with a countdown to aninevitablegraduation.This story is a collection of PWPs set in the Classics AU, so it's all the dirty scenes from the romcom I have yet to write.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 50
Kudos: 365





	1. Graduation

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I know I said I'd probably turn classics au into a short novella and murder puppy into a series of scenes. HOWEVER, my muse has decided that in order to earn back her favor and get the inspiration back to finish LT, I have to write more classics au porn 😂 Thus, this story will contain a series of short, dirty oneshots set in the classics au. It's not going to be linear, rather a series of moments from their lives from before and after graduation. 
> 
> The novel may exist someday guys, but in the meantime: smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is a repost from the Prompted series! So, you can skip if you want for new content :)

The bright sun made Anakin squint and frown as he left the Computer Science building. He was instantly far too hot in his black hoodie, but didn’t bother to take it off—he knew that he only had a short walk across campus to another air-conditioned room. 

He grabbed some sunglasses out of his messy backpack and began trudging on autopilot to the other side of campus. He’d made this particular trek from the ugly cluster of Computer Science and Engineering buildings up the hill to the much more beautiful Liberal Arts quad thousands of times over the last four years. 

The late May weather was beautiful, and people were running around campus with their families in black robes taking pictures, chattering loudly, looking happy. Anakin tightened his grip on the freshly printed document in his hand and swallowed thickly. He was not happy. 

He’d been putting off this meeting for as long as he could, scheduling the last possible slot to meet with his thesis advisor and hand in his paper. Once he turned it in, he would no longer be an undergrad. 

No longer Professor Kenobi’s student. 

Anakin didn’t want to be done learning from Obi-Wan. He didn’t want this meeting to be the last time they were in the same room. He didn’t want this to be the last time he ever really saw his favorite professor—outside of maybe across the field at graduation. He didn’t want to be done. He didn’t want to say goodbye. 

Professor Kenobi was the entire reason Anakin had ended up with a double major in Classics and Computer Science. Obi-Wan Kenobi was the _best_.

In the beginning, Anakin had only ever taken Ancient Greek to fulfill his language requirement. Studying a dead language was the only way to avoid having to spend years making inane small talk about the weather and his favorite colors in a language he’d never use with fellow students he’d prefer to avoid. 

Two years of reading Ancient Greek? He had figured that he could do that, no problem.

He hadn’t even looked up the name of the teacher of Greek 101 when he registered, or read their teaching reviews online, because it really hadn’t mattered. He’d just wanted to avoid the alternatives. Anakin had sorely regretted not checking. He’d wished that he’d been prepared, because when Professor Kenobi walked in, it felt like Anakin was taken apart and put back together wrong. 

Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi was in his thirties, a Hellenist, and had a DPhil from Oxford. He was an internationally renowned scholar, author of multiple famous books on Thales and Anaximander, Anakin’s thesis advisor, and a _total fucking thirst trap._

Anakin sighed and jogged up the stairs to the doors of the combined Classics and Anthropology building. The air conditioning inside was a relief, but the whole building felt odd, it was very quiet, almost too quiet. The final exam period was over, and all the classrooms were empty. The halls echoed without the usual crowd chattering before and after classes. 

He walked up the narrow stairs to the mezzanine filled with professor’s offices slowly, catching his breath and enjoying the familiar sight of all the long-outdated event posters and lecture fliers tacked on the walls. He took a deep breath when he reached the landing. He could do this. _Turn paper in, say thanks, leave._ That’s all. It would be fine.

Professor Kenobi’s door was closed. 

Anakin swore quietly to himself and pulled out his phone to check the time. He’d been so sure that he’d left early enough, but sure enough—he was twenty minutes late. He had only meant to go to his robotics lab to print his thesis, but had gotten distracted as usual. The professor had probably gone home. He’d missed him. All that worrying, and _he’d missed him entirely._

Anakin wanted to bang his head against the wall. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before clenching his jaw and looking back at the door. He wondered if he should slide the paper under, or if an electronic submission would have to work. Obi-Wan usually hated that, he only ever wanted things turned in on paper so he could write all over them, but maybe a thesis was different. 

He decided to knock, even though in the past a closed door had _always_ meant that the professor was gone. 

“Come in!” Obi-Wan answered back crisply. 

Anakin started a little, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar, posh accent. He cautiously opened the door, sticking his head inside. Obi-Wan was typing quickly, staring at his screen, his back to the door. The afternoon light was coming in through the window, filtered by the broad, green leaves of the tree outside. Obi-Wan’s white Oxford was rolled to his elbows, and Anakin’s eyes caught and lingered on bare forearms, wrists and hands.

“Hello, Professor,” Anakin said quietly. He stepped inside and had a long moment of indecision about whether or not he should close the door behind him or leave it open. It had been closed. _He probably wanted it closed?_ Anakin shrugged and closed it as Obi-Wan shot him a distracted look over his shoulder.

“Ah, there you are, _Anankē_.” 

Anakin blushed at the nickname. At the beginning of his senior year, Obi-Wan had said that it seemed to be an _inexorable inevitability_ that Anakin would be in his class every semester and called him his own personal _Anankē_. Anakin had just blushed and shrugged and made scheduling excuses, rather than be honest about how he chose courses. He didn’t care if he was reading Homer or Plutarch, he just wanted to be in the class taught by Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan turned back to his screen, typing for a long moment before hitting the return key hard and spinning his chair back to face his desk, looking over Anakin's sloppy hoodie and jeans critically. He gestured Anakin to sit, his voice dry, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forget about _this_ meeting too.”

Anakin sat down heavily in one of the vistor’s chairs, pulling off his sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry I’m late, Professor.” He swallowed and looked down at the slightly wrinkled paper in his hands. “I, well, I lost—”

“—Lost track of time in the robotics lab,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I’m sure you did.” Anakin looked up at him when he heard the smile in his voice, catching Obi-Wan’s knowing blue eyes and his playful smirk. Anakin felt flustered. “At least you made it, _eventually_.”

“Yes, Professor,” Anakin said, with an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry.” He held up his paper proudly. “All finished. I fixed the bibliography like you requested to APA standards. I think it does look better.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and held out a hand, and Anakin transferred it over. 

“Good,” Kenobi said distractedly as he thumbed through to the end. “It was a bit of a mélange of styles before.”

“Yes, Professor, I know,” Anakin grumbled. “I fixed it.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said. “I already know the content is fine, unless you’ve edited out critical sections without permission.” Anakin huffed a laugh and Obi-Wan looked up, meeting his gaze. Anakin swallowed and looked down. “It is a fine thesis, Anakin.” Anakin felt himself blush, and rolled the strap of his backpack between his fingers anxiously. Obi-Wan continued thoughtfully, ‘If you rewrite it in a more authoritative voice, we could submit it around and see if it could be published.”

Anakin looked up. He liked the sound of _‘we could’_ anything. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and sighed. His disappointment became evident in his voice: “I still can’t believe you’re going for a Ph.D. in Computer Science instead of Classics, _Anankē_ , you are one of the best philologists I’ve ever met.”

Anakin couldn’t breathe. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Obi-Wan opened up his leather messenger bag and tossed Anakin’s paper inside, turning back to his computer. He began typing rapidly. Anakin stared at the back of his head for a long moment and then stood up, slinging his backpack over a shoulder, opening his mouth to say his thanks and go. His heart hurt, but he could do it.

Obi-Wan raised a hand with a finger up in a ‘just a moment’ gesture and continued navigating through menus and confirming boxes. Anakin watched, confused, until Obi-Wan clicked submit with a flourish and closed out of his program. 

“There.” Obi-Wan looked back at him intently, his voice full of satisfaction. “I’ve submitted your grade. You are officially no longer my student, and you will _never_ be my student again.”

Anakin felt his shoulders slump a bit. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He swallowed and tried to be honest. “I’ll miss it.” 

_I’ll miss you._

“I certainly won’t.” Obi-Was was standing up, and Anakin frowned at him. 

“What?” He watched with confusion as Obi-Wan walked around the desk and towards him, crowding him backwards towards the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Anakin’s confused eyes darted from Obi-Wan’s tidy copper hair down to his leather wingtips back up to his bright blue eyes. “Why?” He felt slightly hurt.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. He was standing right in front of him, closer than he’d ever been. He could see the different shades of blue in Obi-Wan’s eyes. Anakin felt frozen, not understanding what was happening. His face was burning. 

“You’ve been driving me insane,” Obi-Wan said emphatically. Anakin’s eyes flicked between Obi-Wan’s, trying to read his expression. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly and exhaled hard. He grabbed Anakin by the nape of the neck and pulled him close. Anakin made a surprised noise deep in his throat when Obi-Wan touched him, and felt his eyebrows rise. 

Obi-Wan’s lips suddenly pressed gently against his, and Anakin’s eyes opened widely and then slid closed. He felt like gravity flipped directions, he couldn’t think clearly—his brain felt disconnected. He dropped his bag and let Obi-Wan walk him backwards against the bookshelf with a loud thump.

Anakin’s mind was stuck on a loop of _Obi-Wan is kissing me, I’m kissing Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan is kissing me_. He melted, tentatively raising his hands to slide up Obi-Wan’s back, pulling him closer. Obi-Wan’s lips moved against his, gently licking and then sucking on his bottom lip. Anakin moaned and broke the kiss, jerking his head back and clunking it against a large dictionary. He said, rather stupidly, “Not just me?”

“Christ, no, you oblivious idiot.” Obi-Wan kissed him again. “You are brilliant, _Anankē_ , but probably the most oblivious person on the planet.” His mouth moved down to Anakin’s neck. Anakin’s pulse was racing, his breathing was shallow.

“I didn’t expect it,” Anakin gasped as he defended himself, enjoying everything about Obi-Wan’s proximity, his scent, his freckles, his eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible. You’re… I’m just...” He blinked and shook his head slightly. “I never assumed...”

“I know you didn’t, darling.” Anakin’s eyes closed as he felt a spike of desire, he was starting to feel dizzy with how quickly blood was leaving his brain to fill his cock. Obi-Wan was still talking as he sucked a line of kisses down Anakins’s neck. “It was for the best. The entire department thought we were fucking for years now.”

The sound of Obi-Wan saying _fucking_ like that was incredible—hearing him whisper into his ear as he sucked on his throat was so overwhelmingly incredible that it took several seconds for Anakin to register the content of the sentence. He jerked his head back into the dictionary again and frowned. “What!?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, consolingly, pecking him gently, “Everyone likes to gossip, but everyone knew I would never break the rules so nothing came of it.”

“Oh,” Anakin said lamely. He didn’t understand how he’d missed something that big. He had spent most of his time outside of class in the robotics lab working on Threepio and Artoo, so missed inside jokes a lot.

“I will _not_ miss the infernal gossip, and now I can _touch_ you.” Obi-Wan kissed him again, softly. “So no, I will not miss you being my student, _paidika_.”

Anakin whined, leaning forward to rub his cheek against Obi-Wan’s beard, like he’d always wanted to. It was both soft and rough, exactly like it should be. He nuzzled him again and murmured back, “ _Erastēs_ , please, I need you to touch me.”

Obi-Wan hummed approvingly and said, “Take off this infernal hoodie, Anakin, it’s practically 35 degrees outside.”

“It’s much warmer than that, Professor,” Anakin smirked as he unzipped and shrugged it off, standing in his grease-stained V-neck and jeans. 

Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look. “Shut up.” He kissed Anakin again, hands raking through his hair, grabbing his curls gently. “Do you own a comb, _Anankē?_ I have genuinely wondered for years.”

“Probably somewhere,” Anakin shrugged. “My fingers work fine.”

Obi-Wan made a skeptical noise. “Do they?” He reached a hand to grab Anakin’s, bringing it to the front of his slacks. Anakin’s groaned when he felt how hard Obi-Wan’s cock was, how big it was. He wrapped his fingers around and slid along his length. 

“ _Professor_ ,” Anakin said wonderingly.

Obi-Wan moaned and muttered fervently. “God, _Professor_ this and _Professor_ that, if I had to hear you say it one more time in public I was going to murder you outright.”

Anakin laughed, looking into Obi-Wan’s face curiously. “Why?”

Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes and pressed his cock into Anakin’s hand again. “Why do you think, _Anankē?_ It made me hard when I was _trying_ to teach.”

Anakin’s eyelids fluttered shut and he whined. “No, it didn’t… It couldn't have...” He slid his hand along Obi-Wan’s cock again. _He was so big._

“It did.” Obi-Wan kissed him again, and Anakin whimpered, his own cock so unbelievably hard there was a wet spot on his jeans just from their talking, just from their kissing. “You genuinely have no idea what you look like and sound like, do you? The effect you have on people around you?” Anakin shook his head. “You are so frustrating, _paidika,_ I’ve wanted to strangle you.”

“Hey,” Anakin felt himself pout slightly. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, ever.” Obi-Wan smiled. “You impossible creature.” He kissed the pout from Anakin’s lips, until Anakin was smiling too.

“ _Professor_ ,” Anakin whispered. “ _Please_...” He pressed his hips forward so that his hard cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s. “Please.”

Suddenly, Anakin was being moved. Obi-Wan carefully pushed several precarious piles of books to the side and then pushed him back roughly on his desk, unbuttoning Anakin’s pants and jerking them down. Anakin moaned when his cock was exposed, and Obi-Wan smirked down at him. “Shoes off.”

Anakin nodded and kicked off his shoes, letting Obi-Wan pull his jeans all the way off. Obi-Wan pulled Anakin’s legs apart and stood between them, pushing up Anakin’s shirt and stroking a hand down his chest. “Good, _paidika_ , very good.” He kissed him hard, fingers lightly brushing Anakin’s cock before stepping away.

Anakin’s breath was shaky. He pulled off his shirt entirely and felt a spike of arousal at being naked on Obi-Wan’s desk, while Obi-Wan was still fully dressed. He watched as Obi-Wan picked up his messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of lube and a foil packet. Anakin laughed, “You carry that around?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, “Not every day.”

“Today?” Anakin felt his blush deepening. He spread his legs again as Obi-Wan came back to stand between them, his cock bouncing slightly. Obi-Wan smiled at him, his eyes flicking from Anakin’s down his chest to his cock and back up.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, popping the top of the lube. “Today.”

Anakin whined, “For me?” He _couldn’t believe_ that Obi-Wan had planned this.

“Yes, for you.” Obi-Wan said wryly as he dispensed some on his fingers.

“Oh.” Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan’s fingers first brushed the sensitive skin under his balls, sliding back towards his entrance. He spoke quickly. “You won’t need to do much of that, Professor.” 

Obi-Wan absently began stoking Anakin’s cock, looking down at him curiously. “Why?”

“I’m already…” He moaned at Obi-Wan's increasingly firm grip on his cock, feeling his face burn again. “I’m almost already ready for you.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharper, his other hand coming up to gently touch Anakin’s entrance. Anakin gasped. “Why, Anakin?” 

He whimpered. “I knew I was going to see you so…”

“So?” Obi-Wan pressed a finger inside Anakin, made a speculative face, and then slid in two. Anakin whined.

“I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be distracted, so I tried to take the edge off.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “Are you saying that you got yourself off before you came to see me?” He began fucking Anakin with his fingers. “You came on your fingers thinking about me?”

“Yes, I did,” Anakin panted. Obi-Wan’s hand sped up on his cock and Anakin moaned and admitted shyly, “I’ve had to before class for years, why would this be any different?”

Obi-Wan groaned at that, and slipped in another finger, stretching him out quickly. Anakin opened his legs wider, trying to make room. Obi-Wan kissed him deeply, and Anakin was suddenly overwhelmed. Obi-Wan’s fingers were fucking him, his other hand was stroking his cock and his tongue was in his mouth. Anakin felt so close to coming he couldn’t kiss right and pulled his head back, gasping. 

“Please, Professor, please, I’m ready, I need it, I want you to—”

Obi-Wan slid his fingers out, and roughly opened his pants, pulling out his cock. Anakin’s eyes widened. _Since when did Professor Kenobi have a cock that big?_ Obi-Wan laughed at his expression and grabbed the condom and the lube, rolling it on and slicking himself liberally. “Don’t worry, my beautiful _paidika_ , you can take it.”

Anakin nodded fiercely, opening his legs wider. “Please, _Professor_ , I need—”

“I know,” Obi-Wan agreed, resting the head of his cock against Anakin’s prepared entrance and pausing. Anakin whined and shifted his hips slightly, begging for it, but Obi-Wan didn’t move. Anakin looked up desperately, trying to read Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan was smiling widely, looking down at him, sighing contentedly before saying, “ _Finally,_ ” and pressing the tip of his cock inside.

Anakin made a disbelieving noise at the stretch, looking down to watch Obi-Wan’s massive cock sliding inside of him slowly. He whined and slumped back, his head hitting the desk with a clunk as he took it, trying to relax into the feeling. Obi-Wan laughed and Anakin felt him fuck in a little harder, pushing in a little deeper, working himself inside.

Obi-Wan’s hand returned to Anakin’s cock and began stroking him again slowly as he fucked him. Anakin moaned loudly and then blushed and cut himself off. He was glad nobody was around, but he still didn’t want to be too loud. 

“Don’t be quiet,” Obi-Wan said, his hips finally meeting Anakin’s. Anakin moaned again, he was so full. He was stuffed full of Obi-Wan’s cock. _Obi-Wan was inside him_ ; he was so deep, he was so thick—Obi-Wan began sliding in and out slowly, getting Anakin used to him, getting Anakin to relax completely. “I want to hear you.”

“Yes, _Professor_ ,” Anakin said breathily. Obi-Wan’s hips jerked and he groaned loudly. 

Obi-Wan spoke thickly, his speed increasing, the sound of their hips slapping together beginning to fill the small office, “You were so frustrating, Anakin, taking the last possible day, putting off as long as possible the moment that I could fuck you.” He thrust his hips harder. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, _Anankē_ , but you really have been driving me insane.”

“Sorry, _Professor_ ,” Anakin looked up at him, feeling vulnerable. “I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want it to be over.”

“I know, dear one. ” Obi-Wan pushed Anakin’s legs wider and began fucking him rapidly. Anakin’s eyes rolled back and his head hit the desk again with another loud thunk. “It’s not over.” Obi-Wan vowed, and Anakin met his intense gaze. “You are not leaving.”

Anakin nodded loosely. “I’m going to graduate school here.” He whined as Obi-Wan shifted his hips for a better angle and began fucking him harder, thrusting in deliberately. “For AI stuff.”

“I know you are, Anakin.” Obi-Wan bent forward, pulling him back up slightly by the neck, kissing him hard before letting him drop back. “I had been hoping you would. I need you around, I already told you that, my _Anankē_.”

“Yes, _Professor_.” Anakin whined. ”I need you too. I...” Obi-Wan’s hand sped up on his cock, fucking him hard. Anakin moaned loudly and then whimpered. “I love you.” Obi-Wan’s rhythm broke off, and Anakin gasped. _He hadn’t meant to say that._ “Sorry, I mean, I—”

“I love you too,” Obi-Wan said roughly, fucking him even harder. Anakin couldn’t believe it. He felt like he was floating, he was so close to coming. Obi-Wan murmured, “You impossible, brilliant, idiot.” and jerked his cock hard, squeezing the head and twisting gently, and Anakin cried out loudly and came, spilling his come onto his stomach and chest. 

Obi-Wan fucked him through his orgasm, and he slid a finger through Anakin’s come and tasted it. Anakin whined as Obi-Wan sucked his finger clean and groaned, his hands coming to grip Anakin’s hips tightly, holding him steady, fucking him hard. Anakin’s legs fell open wide, he opened himself up as much as possible to take Obi-Wan’s massive cock as well as he could. 

“Please, _Professor_ ,” Anakin murmured. “I want you to come, I want to see it, will you come in me, please, _Obi-Wan_ , please—” 

At the sound of his name Obi-Wan’s face looked almost pained, he fucked in hard and gasped, “ _Anakin_ , my _Anankē_.” Anakin smiled widely, making eye contact. Obi-Wan groaned, slammed his hips in a final time and came, his head dropping forward as his body tensed. Anakin watched, fascinated. It was the best thing he’d ever seen.

There was a long quiet moment as Obi-Wan’s orgasm cleared, Anakin was breathing deeply, processing what he’d just learned. He was so happy, he just couldn't believe it. Obi-Wan kissed him on the forehead and pulled out, making Anakin whine with disappointment. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and stepped back to his bag, pulling out a packet of wet wipes. 

Anakin laughed. “You are such a neat freak.” Obi-Wan smirked at him, and began to clean them both up. 

“You’re welcome,” Obi-Wan snarked. 

Anakin sighed happily, letting him wipe his chest and stomach. “I love you.”

“And I you, my _Anankē.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading/rereading this first chapter! <3
> 
> The new part is next! :)


	2. Symposium (sine floribus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another day in the life of Professor Kenobi and his infuriating _paidika_.

_Eight months after graduation..._

  
The Society for Classical Studies had chosen to hold their joint meeting with the Archaeological Institute of America in Boston that year, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin. The conference was always held in winter, and it was always heinous to travel in winter. He simply _couldn’t wait_ for their plane home to be delayed by snow on the runway. 

_Why Boston? Why not Hawaii?_

Obi-Wan took a large sip of his second glass of wine. The house red was far too sweet for his taste, but taste wasn’t the primary criterion at the moment. It was essential to get and stay at least slightly buzzed, or else it would be impossible to deal with a room full of some of the most earnestly insufferable people in the world. 

Obi-Wan included himself in that number, with a sort of resigned pride. He’d just politely extricated himself from a conversation in which he’d been lured into participating in a futile argument about the Homeric Question, for fuck’s sake. _What a waste of time._

The large hotel bar was far too crowded. It was almost a blizzard outside, and nobody had wanted to venture out to find a different place to drink. As a result, there were far too many people that Obi-Wan recognized in one room, and he felt instant fatigue at the idea of engaging in conversation with many of them. 

It was the end of the second day of the conference, and Obi-Wan was very much ready to go home. He took another sip and then glared at his wine glass—it was unfortunately giving him a strong craving for a cigarette. _It was Pavlovian, and pathetic._ He needed to smoke, but Obi-Wan had a habit of never stepping out without at least checking in with Anakin.

_He’d get anxious if Obi-Wan just left, but how could he tell him if he couldn’t find him? Should he just text him? He’d disappeared midway through the Homeric Question debate, so where did he even go?_

_Where was Anakin?_

Obi-Wan shifted to let a group of grad students pass, and moved closer to the wall, his eyes scanning around the room as he took another long drink. It was too loud, and growing steadily louder as the evening wore on—the alcohol was effectively lubricating the awkwardness away. Conversations all around him were growing more animated, and the mood was celebratory and relaxed. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t relax. He had been running around all day, and had been so infuriatingly busy that he’d lost track of time, and now he’d lost track of _Anakin_ , too. He _needed_ a cigarette, and he needed to get out of the noise. He checked his phone, and frowned at the lack of messages. _Why hadn’t he replied to Obi-Wan’s message?_

_Where was he?_

“Where’s your _paidika?”_

A smug, too-familiar voice spoke suddenly from behind his ear, making Obi-Wan start and almost spill his wine. He tensed and shot a dark look over his shoulder. “Hello to you too, Vos.” 

“Not happy to see me?” Quinlan asked, with a wounded expression. 

Obi-Wan gave him an unimpressed look. Quinlan’s suit was artfully disheveled, and he looked only _slightly_ intoxicated _._ He casually slung an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, which Obi-Wan immediately brushed off and stepped away, straightening his jacket and smoothing his tie with a huff. 

“I’ve told you a million times not to call him that.”

“And yet,” Quinlan said, stroking his chin in an exaggerated parody of Obi-Wan stroking his beard, “You’ve never given me a compelling reason not to.”

“I have,” Obi-Wan replied waspishly. ”Many times.” He finished the remaining wine in his glass in a large swallow and sighed. “He’s my husband now, will you just give it a rest?”

Quinlan grinned widely. “He’ll always be your _paidika_ ,” he said, emphasis on the second syllable, “If you know what I—” 

“Stop it.” Obi-Wan cut him off with an annoyed look. 

Quinlan put up his hands in surrender, and then dropped them, looking around curiously. “Where is he though? I don’t see him.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, turning away slightly and handing over his drink to the waitress collecting empty glasses. He looked back at Quinlan and made sure that his tone was unconcerned, “I don’t know.”

“Really?” Quinlan sounded taken aback. “You don’t know?”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of heat and clenched his jaw. He took a deep, calming breath, and relaxed his posture, speaking in a slightly pressed manner. “Yes, Quinlan. We got separated momentarily in a crowded room—it has been known to happen.”

Quinlan barked a laugh, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah, for normal couples maybe. You guys actually _like_ each other.”

“Why are you this jaded?” Obi-Wan asked, exasperated. Quinlan took a long drink and then crossed his arms in front of his chest, giving Obi-Wan a meaningful look. Obi-Wan studied his face and then sighed, turning back to check the room. “Is she even here?”

Quinlan didn’t bother to pretend to be confused about who Obi-Wan meant. He shook his head sadly, “I haven’t seen her. Asajj is very good at avoiding me when she wants to.”

“You guys will work it out,” Obi-Wan said encouragingly. “You need to communicate better.” 

“Whatever.” Quinlan rolled his eyes and looked away, moving away slightly to see the back section of the bar. He perked up, and smirked at Obi-Wan, his voice turning smug and singsong. “I see your darling boy!”

Obi-Wan rebuked him sharply. “Quinlan!” 

“Your husband,” Quinlan corrected without remorse.

Obi-Wan gave him a frustrated look. “Thank you. Where is he?” Quinlan pulled Obi-Wan to his place and pointed. Obi-Wan sighed deeply, “Oh.”

Anakin was around the corner, standing near the entrance to the hallway leading to the restrooms, deep in conversation. As he gesticulated widely, excitedly discussing something, a growing number of people seemed to have gravitated toward the conversation. _No wonder Quinlan had spotted him. The sharks were circling._

“How many grad students is that?” Quinlan sounded speculative. “They’re so tightly clustered it’s hard to count. Might be a new record.” 

Obi-Wan pushed down his desire to growl. “Why does this always happen?” 

Quinlan laughed, “You know why.” 

“I know why,” Obi-Wan confirmed, studying the way Anakin’s shirt stretched across his shoulders as he moved, and almost growled again, frustrated. _He should have let Anakin wear his awful hoodie like he’d wanted. Not that it would have helped._

Anakin’s cheeks were flushed, his curly hair a mess, and his glass empty. Obi-Wan watched him gesture with it, punctuating his point. The man he was talking to laughed, and replied quickly. Obi-Wan looked back at the bar and considered getting another drink. He took a deep, calming breath.

_Anakin would be back soon. He could talk to other people. That was fine._

“Well?” Quinlan asked, “What are you going to do about it?”

“What? Nothing,” Obi-Wan replied defensively. “He’ll be back.” 

“Go get him.” Quinlan’s voice was full of amusement. He gave Obi-Wan a small push on the arm in Anakin’s direction. “You know you want to.” 

“Yes, alright.” Obi-Wan agreed, feeling slightly harassed. He moved away from Quinlan and walked across the room quickly. Something the man said made Anakin tip his head back and laugh loudly, and Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. _It was time to go._

—

A grad student with an embarrassed look on his face mimed an explosion with his hands, and Anakin laughed loudly. He grinned at the mental image, and then sighed wistfully. “I wish I could have competed in proper robotics competitions when I was still in high school! My town was so small, I would have been the only one but… Damn.” He giggled, taking a sip and frowning at his empty glass. “I can’t believe they let you basically build a battlebot for a _race_.”

“Winning is winning, I guess,” the guy shrugged, smiling crookedly and taking a sip of his beer. He opened his mouth to say something else when the serious looking brunette next to him cut him off. 

“When you said you work with ontologies, did you mean that you are working on Parmenides right now?” Her voice was very intent. Anakin’s attention moved to her, trying to follow the question. “Or Aristotle?” 

“Neither,” Anakin said sadly, feeling a brief swell of thwarted longing, “I _wish_ I was studying the Eleatics again, but no. _Ontology_ means something different in information science.” He gestured to where another woman had just been standing, and frowned in confusion. A different woman had taken her place. “I’d been talking about the history of AI in the 90’s with… someone. I—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s calm, accented voice cut clearly through the chatter. 

Anakin jumped and looked over, making eye contact. He felt a flood of warmth at the suppressed annoyance in Obi-Wan’s expression, a lightning strike of arousal going straight to his cock. _He loved when Obi-Wan got possessive._

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, and Anakin nodded and flashed a smile. He felt a surge of both guilt and guilty excitement when Obi-Wan’s smile in return didn’t reach his eyes. 

_Oops…_

Anakin looked at the number of people in the knot around him, and sighed—he knew that he’d gotten stopped again, but hadn’t realized quite how long he’d been distracted. This happened _all the time._

Obi-Wan got pulled aside a lot too, but somehow he could always escape conversations quickly, whereas Anakin either got sucked into it, or was _apparently_ super rude, and just walked away before the other person was aware the conversation was over. 

Obi-Wan’s politely neutral gaze was moving from face to face in the group before returning to Anakin. His words were mild, but managed to feel like a tug on an invisible leash. “We have an early flight tomorrow.” 

Anakin stared into his eyes for a long moment, and blushed deeper at the simmering emotion he found there. Obi-Wan raised both his eyebrows impatiently, and Anakin took a sharp breath and broke eye contact, turning back to the group and nodding an apology generally.

He extricated himself from the crowd, hyperaware of the feeling of Obi-Wan’s eyes intently tracking his progress. People let him leave reluctantly and after a pause, Anakin heard the conversation resume behind him, with less enthusiasm.

Obi-Wan watched his approach, shaking his head in mock despair. “Why does this always happen, _Anankē?_ ” He reflexively fixed Anakin’s collar, giving him a dark look. “Why must I always extricate you from a throng of admirers?”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin murmured, face burning. He looked down, breath catching as he watched Obi-Wan’s quick fingers adjust and smooth down his shirt on his chest. He felt slightly woozy, the faint light from the hanging geodesic lamps wasn’t _quite_ enough to see clearly. He licked his lips and tried again, “I got distracted.”

“You’re drunk,” Obi-Wan said reproachfully, frowning and studying Anakin’s face. He took the empty glass out of Anakin’s hand and placed it gently on a nearby table. “Was that your third or fourth?”

“Third!” Anakin said quickly. “I’m not drunk, I’m just…” He struggled for the right word, trying to get the frown to go away. “Not sober.” Obi-Wan looked unimpressed, and Anakin hastened to keep explaining. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I just… I got distracted. We were talking about computer science, they asked me to explain something and I can’t just not…” 

“You can very well not,” Obi-Wan pointed out, grumpily. “I taught you how to politely avoid a conversation. We even _practiced_ before we came.”

“I know...” Anakin tried to prevent his bottom lip from sticking out, but Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked to his pout anyway. “I’m not good at it, and she asked me about AI!”

“Of course she did. They always, _somehow_ , know to ask about AI.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and then sighed. He looked Anakin up and down, eyes lingering on his mouth and Anakin felt his face grow hot again. Obi-Wan turned away, looking for the door. “Let’s go.”

“Alright,” Anakin agreed, getting close to Obi-Wan’s side and murmuring suggestively in his ear, “Let’s go, _Professor.”_

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped to his face. “Anakin…” 

“What, _Professor?”_ Anakin asked, tilting his head to the side, putting on his listening face and biting his lip. His cheeks felt warm, and he ran a hand through his hair, scratching slightly and probably managing to mess it up even more.

Obi-Wan’s eyes followed his hand and returned to Anakin’s mouth before squaring his shoulders and looking away, jaw clenched. “We’re leaving.”

“Whatever you want, _Professor.”_ Anakin touched his arm lightly, his fingers trailing down his bicep. 

Obi-Wan caught and removed his hand with a dark look. He said repressively, “Stop it.”

“Fine, _Obi-Wan,”_ Anakin murmured his name, enjoying the way it shaped his mouth. Obi-Wan’s name was his favorite word to say, so he said it again. _“Obi-Wan…”_

“Don’t do that either.” Obi-Wan huffed a frustrated breath, giving him one last look before turning and beginning to walk away. “We’re going.”

Anakin tagged along after him, doing his best to slide between groups without losing Obi-Wan—he was moving so fast, and Anakin couldn’t look away from his smooth, confident stride. _He looked untouchable; he looked incredible. It was still impossible that he wanted Anakin too—still wonderful even after months and months._

Obi-Wan sighed loudly as they stepped through the bar doors into a quieter hallway. His shoulders dropped and he pinched his nose, and Anakin felt a swell of concern. He studied Obi-Wan’s face, and asked as gently as he could, “Do you need to smoke?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, dropping his hand from his face and giving Anakin an irritated, resigned look. “I have to have a deathstick, or my headache will only get worse.” He began patting his pockets to check for his cigarette case, his expression full of self-reproach. 

Anakin watched, desperate to kiss the sadness and anger off his face, but he knew beyond doubt that Obi-Wan didn’t want him to do that right now. It _ached_ , he wanted to help so badly. Anakin stared for a long moment before a thought struck. “Where are you going to go? It’s snowing outside.”

“I’m aware,” Obi-Wan said shortly, huffing a sigh of relief when he located cigarettes and a pack of matches. He began to walk toward the elevators.

Anakin stayed at his side, asking curiously, “What are you going to do?” 

Obi-Wan gave him a look like the answer was obvious. “I’m going to the parking garage.”

“Won’t it be cold?” Anakin’s brow furrowed, and he barely resisted touching Obi-Wan’s arm again. _He wanted Obi-Wan to slow down, he wanted him to let Anakin apologize—let Anakin touch him, kiss him, make him feel better..._

“Probably.” Obi-Wan shrugged, in maddeningly casual dismissal of what seemed to Anakin like a rather large problem.

Anakin asked, earnest and concerned, “Do you want to go to the room first and get your coat?” 

“No, _Anankē,”_ Obi-Wan cracked his neck, and gave him a sideways look. “The alcohol is giving me a perfectly serviceable delusion of warmth. I will be fine.”

 _“You_ will be fine?” Anakin asked warily, his stomach dropping. “Am I not coming too?” 

They reached the elevators and Obi-Wan pressed the down button and held his hand by the up, giving him a flat look. “I don’t know, _Anankē_ , are you coming?”

Anakin nodded, and swallowed. Every time Obi-Wan said _Anankē_ , his cock got harder. He was already uncomfortable in his slacks, so he drew closer and answered suggestively under his breath. “Yes, _Erastēs_ , I’d like to come.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes met his sharply, and Anakin felt a spike of desire. He swore he saw a gleam of _intent_ in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but then Obi-Wan abruptly looked away when the doors opened and the connection was broken. 

“We’ll see,” Obi-Wan muttered darkly and walked inside the elevator, swiftly pressing the button at the bottom of the panel. He leaned against the wall, a slightly pained look on his face. 

Anakin bit his lip and let the silence stretch between them. He sighed in relief when the door slid closed without any other passengers and the elevator began to descend. He couldn’t catch Obi-Wan’s eye again, and felt viscerally that his body language was all wrong.

_Obi-Wan looked so mad—so mad, tired, and sad._

“I really am sorry I left you alone, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said quietly. 

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at him for a moment before turning his head back to watch the floor numbers counting down. “I know, _Anankē.”_

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Anakin said earnestly, stepping closer, but Obi-Wan didn’t react. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan said calmly. “We talked about this.”

“I know, but…” Anakin said, reaching out a hand and laying it on Obi-Wan’s arm, but Obi-Wan still didn’t react. “I’m so _sorry,_ Professor.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t turn his head. “I am aware.” 

Anakin dropped his hand, feeling a sting of rejection. He took a step back and turned toward the elevator doors, running his hand through his hair. _Obi-Wan seemed so unhappy, it was awful._

The doors opened on the deepest level of the parking garage, cool air rushing in. Without wind and snow, the cold was not as biting as Anakin had feared—or maybe he was as drunk as Obi-Wan told him he was. It was probably the second one. 

Obi-Wan stepped out first, and Anakin followed close behind. “Where’re you gonna go?”

“If you could wait about thirty seconds, you’d find out.”

Anakin flushed at Obi-Wan’s exasperated tone. “I know, sorry. I just _say_ stuff sometimes—things I’m thinking when I’m thinking.”

“I’m aware that you do, _Anankē,”_ Obi-Wan said, shaking his head and huffing a laugh. “Quite aware.” He took a moment to scan for the cameras, and then headed off, walking rapidly down a row. 

Anakin followed, matching Obi-Wan’s steady, rapid steps to the best of his ability, but always felt on the verge of tripping over his feet. It felt like Obi-Wan was magnetically pulling him along, and he was helpless but to follow. 

Obi-Wan turned sharply around a corner into an even more shadowy row of cars. It was so quiet, the scuffing of their feet was the only thing making noise. Obi-Wan walked a bit further, stopping when he found a shadowy, private spot on the far side of a large black SUV. 

He fished in his jacket for his cigarettes, and Anakin hovered nearby, so aware of the sound of their breathing, and the distance between their bodies. _Nobody was around, they were alone._ Obi-Wan placed an unlit cigarette in his lips, and Anakin stared at the way the filter pressed gently on Obi-Wan’s pink bottom lip. 

Anakin hated when Obi-Wan smoked, but he knew he hated it for the wrong reasons. It was bad for him, or whatever, but it also _trapped Anakin in a private hell of wanting to steal the cigarette away and suck on his lips_. While _sober_ , Anakin found Obi-Wan smoking to be unbearably sexy to watch, and while _tipsy_ it was _torture_. 

He studied the veins on the backs of Obi-Wan’s strong hands as Obi-Wan dexterously lit a match in one strike. He cupped and held the flame close to his face, casting a flickering glow, and making his beard and hair gleam. He shook the match and dropped it, sucking in a deep breath, holding it for a moment and then sighing loudly with relief, his eyes sliding closed. 

Anakin ran a hand through his curls again. He felt so flustered, his cock was throbbing. Obi-Wan’s body language was better, in that he looked less _pained_ , but he still looked stressed and annoyed. After a few more long moments of watching Obi-Wan smoke in silence, Anakin blurted out, “Can I make it up to you?”

Obi-Wan studied his face and said blandly, flicking his cigarette, “If you want.” 

“I do want,” Anakin said in a low murmur, drawing closer. He knew it was cold, but he couldn’t feel it anymore—he felt like he was burning up. His heart was pounding, alcohol and desire twin flames in his blood. He took a shaky breath. “Can I please, _Erastēs?”_

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and gestured vaguely to the ground in front of him. “Feel free.”

Anakin nodded, moving quickly to sink to his knees on the cold concrete in front of Obi-Wan. He registered on some level that the hard ground was uncomfortable on his knees, but quickly forgot—raising his hands, he reverently stroked the outline of Obi-Wan’s hardening cock in his slacks. 

Anakin looked up, eyes wide, voice quiet. “I’m always on my way to you when I get sidetracked, Obi-Wan.” He leaned forward and kissed the clothed outline of Obi-Wan’s cock, vowing quietly, “I’m always on my way back to you.”

Obi-Wan affectionately stroked a hand through Anakin’s hair. “I’m always looking for you too, darling.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his teeth. “Though you do have a tendency to get _lost_ , my love.”

Anakin felt hot. He looked straight ahead and focused hard on undoing Obi-Wan’s belt with trembling hands. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I really don’t notice when it’s happening.” 

“I _know_ you don't, darling, and it’s _maddening,”_ Obi-Wan said. He sighed and flicked his cigarette away. His tone became full of a kind of dark amusement. “I guess it all works out in the end.”

“Why, Professor?” Anakin asked shakily, opening Obi-Wan’s pants. He took a deep breath and freed Obi-Wan’s hard cock, other hand gently cupping his balls. 

Obi-Wan hissed a breath, and Anakin gently stroked his fingers along the length, marvelling _as always_ at the size of Obi-Wan’s hard cock. Anakin sucked spit into his mouth and looked up, the question in his eyes. 

Obi-Wan looked down at him with a satisfied glint in his eyes, stroking Anakin’s hair again fondly. He explained in his kindest instructional tone. “It works out because I’m the one that gets to fuck you, _Anankē.”_

Anakin’s eyes slid closed, his cock throbbing. He hummed and nodded hastily in agreement, his fingers gently surrounding the head of Obi-Wan’s cock and squeezing, pulling slightly.

Obi-Wan exhaled hard and said, “Open your mouth.” Without thought, Anakin immediately obeyed, relaxing his jaw and sticking out his tongue. “Good…” Obi-Wan murmured. “Very good. Suck my cock, Anakin. Make it up to me.” 

Anakin nodded again, leaning closer and licking from Obi-Wan’s balls along the length of his cock, spreading his saliva. Obi-Wan’s breathing was unsteady, and Anakin felt a surge of pride. He sucked the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth, and licked the slit, moaning at the taste of Obi-Wan’s precome.

Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward slightly in reaction, and his hands tightened in Anakin’s hair. “Very good, _paidika.”_

Anakin whined, bobbing his head up and down for a moment, sucking on the head, before taking Obi-Wan’s cock as deep in his throat as he could. He let Obi-Wan stuff his face full of cock for a moment, and then pulled back to breathe. Obi-Wan stroked his head again, and Anakin beamed up at him. He asked eagerly, “Was that right, Professor?”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, running his thumb along Anakin’s cheekbone fondly. Anakin stared up at him, captivated by the sight of Obi-Wan’s arousal—his cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. “It was excellent work, Anakin.”

Anakin felt a spike of desire and happiness, and let Obi-Wan’s cock push back between his lips and slide down his tongue, deep into his mouth. Obi-Wan’s cock was so thick, Anakin had to relax his jaw as much as he could, letting Obi-Wan fuck down his throat—even then, Anakin couldn’t get the whole length in his mouth. 

He moved his head back, gasping and stroked his hand on Obi-Wan’s cock quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

Anakin opened his mouth, ready to suck it back into his mouth again when Obi-Wan’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Stop.”

Anakin’s breath caught. He clicked his mouth closed and sat back on his heels, looking up in confusion. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Obi-Wan’s face was so flushed, his breathing almost as unsteady as Anakin’s own. His hand slid to the back of Anakin’s neck, and he tugged up gently. “Stand up.” 

Anakin scrambled to his feet, standing and wincing slightly at the pain in his knees. Obi-Wan gave him an apologetic peck on the lips, and then grabbed him by the hips, spinning him around unexpectedly. 

Anakin made a surprised noise, and then moaned when Obi-Wan pushed him forward, bending him over the hood of a car and kicking his legs apart. Anakin’s cheek and palms were suddenly pressed against the cool metal of the hood, and he whined pathetically when Obi-Wan pulled his hips back, removing the relieving pressure away from his cock. 

Anakin whined _again_ when Obi-Wan roughly unbuttoned and pulled down his pants. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh at the small noise and spanked him gently. Anakin looked back up at him, panting and grinning. It was _perfect,_ and Obi-Wan’s hand came to rest gently on his ass, stroking him gently. 

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a pleased, knowing look and began to go through his pockets again, speaking in a low, warning tone. “Now, you’ll have to be very quiet, Anakin. Every moan will echo.”

“I’ll try,” Anakin said breathily, swallowing and trying again. “You know I’m bad at that.”

“You’ll have to at least _try,_ darling,” Obi-Wan said with a smile in his voice.

Anakin nodded, his cheek pressed against the metal. His eyes focused on the hood and had a moment of intense gratitude that the car was clean. _Of course, Obi-Wan would pick a clean car for this._ He looked back at Obi-Wan and spoke in a tone that betrayed no confidence whatsoever in his ability to be quiet, “I’ll do my best.” Obi-Wan pulled out a condom and a packet of lube, and Anakin gasped shakily, “You brought that?”

“Yes, Anakin—” Obi-Wan looked smug, ripping open the condom and rolling it on. “—Of course I did.” He gave Anakin a satisfied smile as he rubbed lube on his hands and cock. His voice was low and intent, and he reached to stroke the sensitive skin of Anakin’s entrance, slicking him with lube there too. “Do you know the reason why?”

“Why?” Anakin whined, pushing back against Obi-Wan’s soft touch, desperate for more contact, more pressure. 

Obi-Wan continued to stroke him, pressing a bit harder against his skin, teasing his entrance with the tips of his fingers. Anakin bit off a moan, and Obi-Wan murmured, his voice husky and low, “So I could fuck you whenever I wanted, _paidika_.” He abruptly slid two slick fingers hard into Anakin’s ass, and Anakin moaned loudly. Obi-Wan chucked, “Quiet, love.” 

“S-sorry, Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry.” Anakin gasped, the world disappearing except for the cool metal beneath him, and the incredible sensation of Obi-Wan fucking him gently with his fingers. He watched with anticipation as Obi-Wan gathered lube on his other hand and reached down, stroking Anakin’s aching cock. 

Anakin choked on his breath and bit his lip, trying desperately to stop himself from moaning again. Obi-Wan’s hand stroked him steadily, his wrist twisting gently, and he began to murmur, his tone intent. “Do not apologize. You have no reason to be sorry, _paidika_. You’re so beautiful, so clever. Everyone can see it, not just me. It’s infuriating.”

Anakin felt his face burning. He struggled to breathe, the pleasure almost overwhelming his ability to think. His mouth felt numb. _Obi-Wan’s low fervent tone praising him was causing his mind to go blank_. He whined, “I’m still sorry…”

Obi-Wan’s hand sped up on his cock and he shook his head. “Do not apologize, dear one. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that the things you do drive me _insane._ You’re so distracting sometimes, Anakin, I can’t think about _anything_ but fucking you, sliding my cock in your tight ass, making you take it…”

Anakin whined, his cock was so incredibly hard, his stomach so tight, pleasure was crackling up and down his spine, “Professor, please, I'm going to come…” 

Obi-Wan made a thoughtful noise. “Can’t have you make a mess, can we?”

“No, we can’t, you don’t like it,” Anakin panted. Obi-Wan’s hands hadn’t stopped moving, and were dragging him closer and closer to the edge. He whined, “Professor, stop… or I’ll come, I’m so close…” 

“Come in my hand,” Obi-Wan ordered, cupping and squeezing the tip of Anakin’s cock gently and continuing to fuck Anakin’s ass with his fingers, pressing down hard, and deliberately stroking along Anakin’s prostate. “Come now, _Anankē.”_

Anakin gasped and came on command, trying so hard not to make a sound—he pressed a hand on his mouth, biting into it as he released, spilling his come into Obi-Wan’s waiting fist. The pleasure was impossibly good, an overwhelming wave that seemed to stretch out forever. 

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice filled with satisfaction and pride. He took his hands off Anakin’s body, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping them clean. “You did just what you were told, Anakin, you did so well. Thank you, darling…”

“I love you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured, shifting his hips slightly, relaxed his muscles, getting himself ready for Obi-Wan to fuck him—he’d gotten so good at getting ready to take it. 

Obi-Wan noticed his subtle readjustments and folded the dirty handkerchief, putting it away in a pocket. “Do you want me to fuck you, Anakin?”

“Yes, _please,”_ Anakin begged, spreading his legs as best he could with his pants around his ankles. He frowned and kicked one foot free, spreading wider and arching his back more. 

“Beautiful, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured, grabbing Anakin’s hips and holding him still with a tight grip. “Very good.”

Anakin felt the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock _finally_ come to press for a long moment against his entrance and he begged in a fervent whisper. “Oh, please, please, I want you to—”

Obi-Wan suddenly pushed the tip in, and Anakin lost his train of thought, and whimpered loudly. 

“Sorry, what was that, darling?” Obi-Wan gave him a fond smile, and he began to thrust in, working himself in deeper and deeper. Anakin willed himself to relax and open up around him, to take Obi-Wan’s cock as smoothly as possible. He whined and babbled as Obi-Wan began to fuck him faster and harder, a smooth rhythm building. Obi-Wan teased him, “Are you trying to say something, _paidika?”_

Anakin whimpered, biting his bottom lip. He shook his head, pressing his cheek against the cool metal, grounding himself, as Obi-Wan fucked him harder. 

Obi-Wan’s pace sped up, and he bent forward, murmuring possessively in Anakin’s ear between forceful thrusts, “I get to take you home, Anakin. I get to keep you. You’re mine, not theirs. I love you.”

”I love you too,” Anakin whispered. “More than anything.”

Obi-Wan kissed the back of Anakin’s neck and stood up straight again, attention returning to fucking Anakin with deliberate roughness and speed. _It felt like_ _Obi-Wan was getting so close. He needed to come, Anakin wanted him to come more than anything._

“I’m yours, only yours,” Anakin promised, letting Obi-Wan have control of his body, staying loose under his hands, and letting Obi-Wan take him exactly how he wanted. Anakin vowed. “Nobody else, ever.”

“Nobody else, ever,” Obi-Wan said darkly, hips stuttering as Anakin spoke. He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts. “Not ever.”

“I promise, Obi-Wan. I do.” Anakin echoed their vows, curling around to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes seriously. “I do.”

Obi-Wan groaned quietly, his cock sliding in deep on last time and then he came, his eyes squeezing shut as he spilled his come deep inside Anakin’s body, his orgasm washing over his face, and _it was so beautiful, so perfect_. 

They stayed perfectly still for a long moment, appreciating the closeness. Anakin focused all of his attention on how it felt to be full of Obi-Wan’s cock, never wanting to forget how perfect it was at that moment. “I love you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan sighed and pulled out of Anakin, using his handkerchief to gently clean up his mess. He removed the condom with another sigh, tying it off and grimacing as he wrapped it in the handkerchief, shoving it in a pocket to throw away soon.

Obi-Wan shot Anakin a guilty look and admitted quietly, “I’m sorry about all that, Anakin. I know it’s not supposed to bother me when you talk to other people.”

“But it does?” Anakin murmured, studying his face.

Obi-Wan sighed and stroked Anakin’s back gently one more time before stepping away, tucking himself back inside his pants. “Yes, it does.”

“Why?” Anakin asked, baffled. He stood up and gave Obi-Wan a curious look. “You know I love you more than anything.”

“Yes, I do know that,” Obi-Wan said, awkwardly. Anakin struggled to pull his pants back up over his shoe and scowled at his feet. Obi-Wan coughed, disguising a laugh, and then looked away. He pulled out another cigarette, lit it quickly, and took a drag. 

Anakin watched him fondly, but his gaze sharpened when Obi-Wan spoke again, his tone slightly uncomfortable. “I think because I had to watch you for so long before I could be with you... I was always afraid I would have to watch it happen.” 

“Watch what happen?” Anakin frowned, fastening his belt and trying to smooth a hand through his hair.

“I don't know. For you to fall for someone else.” Obi-Wan sounded ashamed.

Anakin reached out his left hand, tangling it in Obi-Wan’s so that their rings touched. He tugged gently and began to pull Obi-Wan back toward the elevators. Anakin smiled at the way Obi-Wan let himself be guided, still lost in the faint aftershocks of orgasm.

Anakin laughed at the idea of finding someone else when Obi-Wan existed. He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand in reassurance. “You never had to worry, Obi-Wan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this little peek back into the realm of classics au. 
> 
> Pouring this one out for the muses, I did as you asked, please let me finish LT now 😂


	3. Intermediate Attic Prose (Plato’s Apology)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, on my knees before my Muse, offering up classics au porn: _Please, please, my lady, may I have some LT?_  
>  My muse, reclined on a purple couch, eating grapes: _No._
> 
> In this AU, I figure that translating/analyzing Greek is the equivalent of sparring, and publishing is like lightsaber combat, e.g. Obi-Wan published a devastating critique of an article by Professor Maul while he was still an undergraduate, cutting him in half professionally and creating a grudge, etc. 
> 
> Basically, Anakin is good at Greek, because he's good at fighting with a lightsaber. That's the premise haha

_2 years before graduation…_

Class had been underway for almost exactly eight minutes when the door opened with a startling bang, and Obi-Wan sighed. He knew it had been almost exactly eight minutes because he had been keeping one eye on the clock, waiting for the inevitable. 

He’d been dreading this moment ever since he’d woken up and seen the weather forecast. It was the first truly warm morning of the spring, and Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling about what that implied. He vowed internally that he would not react, no matter what he saw. 

_It was essential that he appear completely unaffected. He had plenty of practice, and it was his responsibility as an educator. The entire semester had already been a trial, why not today too?_

Obi-Wan himself had already been overheating in his usual outfit on his way to work, and so it had been necessary for him to take his jacket off while teaching, which was something he preferred not to do. His iced tea had not helped cool him down, either. _If he felt the heat, then…_ His eyes involuntarily slid sideways to the figure rushing through the door, and everything _stopped_. His heartbeat stuttered, and he froze on instinct, chest stilling, breath caught.

He kept his body still, face smooth—nobody in the room was allowed to see him react, especially not _Anakin_. 

Obi-Wan wrenched his eyes away as soon as he was free to move them, but it still felt like he had the image burned on his retinas, as if he’d been trying to look directly at the sun. The bare, golden skin of Anakin’s broad shoulders lingered in his mind’s eye like an afterimage. 

Obi-Wan blinked, and then blinked again, trying to forget.

Anakin was wearing athletic shorts and a tank top, his backpack casually slung over a shoulder, clearly coming to class straight from the gym. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin must have overslept and hadn’t had time to shower before rushing to class, and he _hated_ that he had that kind of understanding of a _student’s_ routine. 

There was still sweat in the curls at Anakin’s temples, and a glistening sheen on his brow. He immediately apologized, as always, “Sorry I’m late, _Professor.”_

Obi-Wan swallowed. He had taught Anakin for almost two years at this point, and at some point Anakin’s _‘Professor’_ had stopped sounding like a polite title, and began sounding like something far more complex and _weighty_. Obi-Wan actively resisted hearing the meaning Anakin caressed into the word, and shifted on his seat. 

“Here, Anakin. Take your test.” Obi-Wan spoke quietly, keeping his voice carefully disinterested. 

Anakin obediently stopped at Obi-Wan’s desk in the front of the room, standing close by the side of his chair. Obi-Wan breathed through his mouth, attempting to not smell him—his hair, his sweat, his skin. He pulled the test from the manila folder, holding it out and looking up, his eyes deliberately seeking Anakin’s eyes, not lingering anywhere else. 

“This was excellent work, Anakin.”

_It had been a perfect test, a perfect translation, perfect parsing, perfect analysis. Anakin’s messy handwriting was the only indication that it was not an answer key._

Anakin took the test back, his already pink cheeks flushing crimson. He murmured, “Thank you, Professor.” 

Obi-Wan broke eye contact and looked back at the rest of the class. Almost all of the women and half of the men were staring at the defined muscles of Anakin’s bare upper arms and shoulders. Anakin shoved his test haphazardly in his backpack, making Obi-Wan wince at the sound of crumpling paper, and moved quickly towards his seat in the back of the room. 

Once he’d moved out of Obi-Wan’s personal space, Obi-Wan took a deep breath, attempting to relax. His eyes immediately and involuntarily drifted to focus on the way Anakin’s shorts slid to expose the soft, golden skin on the back of his thighs as he walked away. Obi-Wan’s cock twitched, and he yanked his gaze away from Anakin _again_. 

He was furious at himself for looking, and furious at his body for _reacting_ the way it did to perfectly innocuous details of Anakin’s body _and his brilliant mind and the sound of his voice and…_ Obi-Wan swallowed again, making sure that his face was neutral, his posture was relaxed, and that everything was under control. 

Anakin finally shuffled to the back, finding his seat and sitting down heavily. His arms flexed as he reached for his backpack, and Obi-Wan turned his head away entirely. He nodded towards Ferus, and spoke in a steady, loud voice that snapped the class back to reality. “Ferus, if you would be so kind as to _continue class.”_

Ferus blinked and looked at his book, began to read out loud again, _“...All’humin baruterai gegonasin kai epipth—”_ He stumbled and tried again, _“—epi-ph-thon-ōterai, hōste zēteite autōn nuni apallagēnai…”_

Obi-Wan closed his eyes while Ferus read and tried to focus on the sound of the words in the Greek, no matter how haltingly delivered. _One of the most influential texts in Western history, delivered one mispronounced word at a time._

Ferus reached the end of his passage, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He looked directly at Ferus, ignoring the other side of the room where he could hear the small noises of Anakin getting his book and a pencil out of his bottom of his messy backpack. “Good, thank you. In English?”

“Umm,” Ferus looked nervous. “Right. _Much…. love of soul… would certainly hold uh… me… uh.. have me? I have?... oh Athenian men, if thus irrational I am… so as not... be able to reckon…”_

Obi-Wan listened to his attempt to translate the Greek with a impartial expression, making light notes on the side of his book in pencil about points of grammatical interest, correctly or incorrectly rendered. He nodded sharply once Ferus finished anxiously, _“... so as… might seek now to be… set free from… them.”_

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, and resisted smiling as Ferus huffed out a relieved breath at being finished. “Can you explain to me the difference between the parallel _hōstes?”_

“Umm,” Ferus, looked at his notes and then looked back up blankly. “I thought they were the same.”

“Not quite,” Obi-Wan smiled at him. “Anyone else?” 

There was a hush, all the students studiously looking down or away. Obi-Wan swallowed and had to turn his attention to the other side of the room. 

Anakin was sitting there impatiently, his long, bare legs a tangle beneath the desk, his hand slightly raised. As Obi-Wan turned his head, Anakin stretched it higher, and Obi-Wan’s eyes were pulled to the light brown hair in his armpit, and his mind immediately went blank. 

_Suddenly the hair under Anakin’s arm was the hair between Anakin’s legs, the hair around Anakin’s cock—a great flood of imagination bursting all at once into a kaleidoscope of Anakin nude, Anakin stroking himself, Anakin coming, pink cheeked and moaning._

Obi-Wan blinked and forcibly looked back to Anakin’s face, tone dispassionate. “Yes, Anakin?”

Anakin straightened and answered quickly, seeking his approval, “The first one introduces a _natural_ result clause, Professor, and the second one introduces an _actual_ result clause.”

“Correct,” Obi-Wan said. His voice was light, and level. _His cock was throbbing._ He took a breath, willing his arousal away, trying as hard as possible to _just teach_. “How could you tell the difference?”

Anakin didn’t have notes out, but answered immediately. _“Dunasthai_ is an infinitive, and _zēteite_ is indicative.”

“It is?” Ferus frowned at his notes, and then looked at Anakin with a defensive glower. “No, it’s not. It can’t be, there’s _an iota_. It’s an _optative.”_

Anakin took a breath, about to reply, and Obi-Wan held up a hand, warning him to stay quiet. Anakin’s mouth immediately clicked shut, and he slumped back in his chair, arms crossed. 

Obi-Wan tried to ignore how Anakin’s unthinking obedience made him feel. _It’s just the heat, just his clothes—all Anakin’s bare skin._ Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed _again_ and he felt a surge of self-loathing. He willed his body’s reaction away, willed himself to be better, to be focused, to be a _teacher_. 

“It is indicative,” Obi-Wan explained gently to the room at large _,_ looking back at Ferus. _He was in control._ “Remember that _zētein_ is an epsilon-contract verb.”

“Right,” Ferus sighed loudly, shooting another dark look across the room. “Of course it is.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Can you tell me what _baruterai_ and _epiphthonōterai_ agree with?”

“Agree with?” Ferus looked concerned. “I thought they were datives of manner.”

“No,” Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “They’re not dative. I’m again sorry the text uses iota adscript notation, if that led you astray—but they are both nominative plural feminine comparative adjectives.”

“Oh,” Ferus said. “Then I guess… _politai?”_

“That’s _masculine,”_ Anakin said, a disdainful look on his face.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply, turning his head to give him a warning look, and ended up staring intently into his eyes. Anakin began turning pink. “Is it your turn?”

“No, Professor,” Anakin said, breaking eye contact and looking down at his book, expression contrite.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan shook his head and forcibly refocused on Ferus. “They both agree with the gender of _diatribas.”_

“But that’s an accusative,” Ferus said, tone full of despair. “They’re datives, aren’t they? No wait, right, they’re nominatives. Right.”

Obi-Wan heard Anakin sigh, and had to fight to keep a fond smile off his face. Sometimes that having Anakin in his class was like having a graduate student sitting in, at least in terms of Greek reading comprehension.

Obi-Wan had discovered quickly that there was no question he could ask about grammar or meaning that Anakin couldn’t and wouldn’t answer rapidly. Other students found this infuriating, and Obi-Wan had to work hard to keep a handle on him during class—but Obi-Wan secretly found this tendency _extremely_ endearing. 

Anakin had an incredible memory, a precise and logical mind, and no patience for people who struggled to answer questions that to him seemed to have a clear and obvious answer. Obi-Wan assumed that his work in computer science trained him to think in a rigorously analytical fashion that was rare in the type of people interested in the humanities.

In some ways, Anakin was much more like an austere 19th century German philologist than a modern American classical scholar, and Obi-Wan loved that about him. 

Obi-Wan frowned at himself, and refocused on _teaching_. “They’re in a separate clause, Ferus. Normally they would be masculine, because they would agree with _logous._ Do you have an idea of why they are feminine?”

“No, I don’t know,” Ferus shook his head. “I didn’t know they agreed with anything at all.”

“Anyone else?” Obi-Wan gave the rest of the room a cursory glance, and his eye landed back on an eager Anakin. “Yes, Anakin?”

“Well, Professor,” Anakin began, absently running an hand through his hair, making a mess that Obi-Wan’s fingers almost ached to set right. The muscles in Anakin's arm flexed, sliding under the skin in a mesmerizing show of strength. His voice was knowing, and superior. “If you read it out _right_ , you’d notice that _logous_ is essentially a qualification and explanation of _diatribas_ , and _diatribas_ remains the semantic subject that carries forward into the rest of the argument. He’s still talking about his pastimes and time wasting in general, not just his discourses specifically.”

“Does that make sense, Ferus?” Obi-Wan asked, and received a sharp nod. He gave him an encouraging smile. “Good, thank you.” 

Obi-Wan looked across the row and then down at his text, selecting the next passage. “Darra, starting with _kalos oun_ and ending at… well… _zēn_ is too short. Can you take us all the way to _autous toutous?”_

“Yes!” Darra replied cheerfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she leaned over her book. “I can do that.”

Obi-Wan refocused on his text, and let class flow forward. He was fairly certain that he’d navigated the beginning of class without openly advertising his various ongoing internal crises to anyone. It was handy to have learned a stiff upper lip at his public school in England. _Nobody could know what he thought, what he wanted. Especially not Anakin._

Finally, it was Anakin’s turn to translate. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, scanning the text to determine the length of the passage, and felt a swell of dread. _Of course Anakin would get this passage. This class was a level of hell designed for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan alone._ He made a humming noise of deliberation and then said, “Anakin, can you take us through to _legonti?”_

“Yes, Professor,” Anakin murmured, eyes hastily scanning his passage. “No problem.” He took a deep breath and began to read. _“Eant’au legō hoti kai tunkhanei megiston agathon hon anthrōpōi touto…”_

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, listening intently to his voice. Anakin didn’t stumble or repeat himself, but read the Greek in a continuous flowing stream. Obi-Wan let the sound wash over him, allowing himself to enjoy the way Anakin’s melodic voice shaped the vowels. 

“… _hekastēs hēmeras peri aretēs tous logous poieisthai kai tōn allōn peri hōn humeis emou akouete dialegomenou kai emauton kai allous eksetazontos…”_

Anakin’s tone and inflection were excellent, and he already had almost enough understanding of the Greek to be able to consistently add correct emphasis, and when he did, the result was _beautiful._

Obi-Wan swallowed and opened his eyes, unable to resist staring at the way the morning light streamed in through the windows behind Anakin as he read, illuminating the burnished gold in his hair into a halo. His exposed skin almost seemed to glow too—he was almost too handsome to be real, a statue come to life, one of the most famous passages in the history of philosophy pouring from his mouth.

_“… ho de aneksetastos bios ou biōtos anthrōpōi, tauta d’eti hētton peisesthe moi legonti.”_

Obi-Wan blinked, and looked away. His chest hurt, but in a different way than it usually did when he looked at Anakin. More than his usual aching desire to touch, he felt a new strong desire to _hold_. He wanted to keep this moment, make it last forever, have it always be with him. _Anakin was so_ _beautiful._

Reaching the end of his passage, Anakin bit his lip and looked up anxiously. There was a moment of silence, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Good, thank you. In English?”

Anakin nodded and translated easily, “... and if I say that each day conversing concerning _excellence_ (or concerning those other things about which you hear me talking and examining myself and others) is the greatest good for man, and that _the unexamined life is not worth living,_ you will believe me still less. _"_ He finished with satisfaction, and looked up, smiling awkwardly. “Was that right, Professor?”

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice as mild as he could make it. He took a deep breath and looked down at his desk, absently tapping his pen and bouncing his leg to channel all of the nervous energy that was rushing through him. _He needed class to be over. He couldn’t handle this for another moment. This was torture._ “Why is _hēmeras_ genitive?”

Anakin gave him a look that implied he was insulted by the question. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and tipped his head slightly toward the rest of the room, and Anakin answered dutifully, “It’s a genitive of time within which.”

“Thank you, and what form is _biōtos?”_

“It’s a gerundive.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan nodded once, “Can you explain the gerundive?”

“It’s a verbal adjective, Professor.” Anakin spoke without hesitation, without notes. He looked intently at Obi-Wan, studying his face for reaction. _Obi-Wan knew what Anakin wanted to see, and he made sure it wasn’t there._ “It indicates necessity for the action of the verb to be performed. It takes a dative of agent.”

Obi-Wan asked leadingly, “So, the _aneksetastos bios ou biōtos anthrōpōi…_ ”

“It means that without critical examination of life, there is no _necessity_ for a life to be lived. Life’s not worth living without philosophy, Professor.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan smiled slightly, “It is not.” 

Anakin smiled back, his eyes radiating a kind of joy that Obi-Wan recognized as signifying his pride in his ability to read Greek, his appreciation of the content of the text they were reading, and his thrill at any crumb of approval that he could get from Obi-Wan. He looked so _alive_ , so excited to have Obi-Wan’s eyes on him. _He was so beautiful._

Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed, and he realized they’d maintained eye contact for too long. He looked away to check the expressions on the faces of the other students, gauging the level of comprehension. Nobody looked lost, but several were quietly packing their bags. Obi-Wan checked the clock, and realized that class was almost done. “Good work today, everyone. If you all will prepare to…” He flipped to the next page. “Go to the beginning of 39. That should be reasonable.” 

Giving the assignment was like breaking a spell—the room immediately filled with people chattering, moving, packing bags. Obi-Wan sat back slightly in his chair and looked at the ceiling, trying to use his willpower to force his erection away. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of students leaving, counting down until he was alone.

_He was supposed to be better than this._

“Professor?” Anakin sounded tentative, and far too close. Obi-Wan’s eyes opened and he fought a startle reflex. The room was emptying quickly, and Anakin was standing directly in front of his desk, looking nervous. “I was wondering if I missed any announcements at the beginning of class?”

“Yes, you did, _as usual,”_ Obi-Wan sighed, and Anakin’s blush deepened. “Nothing important this time, Anakin. Office hours are cancelled this week.”

“Oh,” Anakin looked unreasonably upset. “Why, _Professor?”_

Obi-Wan’s cock ached at his possessive, needy tone. He shot Anakin a look that implied that the reason was _none of his business_. “I had a scheduling conflict, Anakin. You can email me questions, you know that.”

“I know,” Anakin shrugged, still looking disappointed. He ran his hand through his hair again, breaking up the sweat clinging to his curls and making an even bigger mess. Obi-Wan looked away, breathing steadily, and kept face blank. Anakin dropped the hand. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Of course, Anakin.” Obi-Wan began packing up his bag. The room was empty except for him and Anakin, which was a very bad thing. Obi-Wan needed to escape back to his office, regain his equilibrium, _drink some fucking Scotch._ “Anything else?

“No, Professor,” Anakin shook his head. “See you… see you on Thursday then?”

Obi-Wan nodded once and shaped his words into a dismissal. “See you in class, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded and turned to leave. Obi-Wan tried as hard as possible not to watch him go—but it was impossible to resist looking, he almost couldn’t help it. _Anakin’s back was turned, he couldn’t see, he wouldn’t know, nobody would know, he could look…_

Obi-Wan’s eyes immediately jumped back to where they’d wanted to linger before, sliding from the back of Anakin’s knees up the soft, smooth skin of thighs. Anakin’s shorts pulled and swished, teasingly exposing swaths of golden skin higher up than Obi-Wan had ever seen before, and it was captivating.

His gaze moved upward again, finally coming to rest on the curve of Anakin’s ass, so _visible_ in his soft shorts as he walked. Obi-Wan couldn’t take his eyes away, despite his better judgement. His cock ached, he was _so hard_ —it was too easy to imagine bending Anakin over, spreading his thighs with his hands, stroking his skin, trailing his touch higher and higher as Anakin squirmed and whined.

He desperately wanted to use his fingers to test the firmness of Anakin’s ass. He wanted to grab and squeeze his cheeks, spreading him until _he could finally see his hole, tease it, touch it, lick it, fill it with his cock—it was probably tight and pink and perfect just like everything else about Anakin. He’d be so tight, so hot; he’d moan so prettily, take Obi-Wan's thick cock so well as he fucked into him_. 

Anakin took his final steps out of the room, and Obi-Wan was alone. 

Without thinking it through, without considering what he was doing, one of his hands drifted down and pressed on his cock, palming the head and giving himself the pressure to try to get rid of the ache. His hand instinctively rubbed down harder and pleasure burst through his system like bubbles in champagne.

Obi-Wan gasped in horror, and snatched his hand away. _Fuck._

He threw the rest of his belongings in his bag, and stood up. He felt that there was a wet spot in the front of his trousers where precome had leaked from his cock. _Fuck._

He knew the stubbornly persistent erection in his pants was not subtle. It felt like a curse at the moment, not a blessing, that his cock was big. _Fuck._

Obi-Wan knew that at this point, he had no choice but to fix the problem. He took a deep breath, and hurried out of the classroom. The halls were crowded, and he held his bag in front of him as if looking through it for something, face pensive and removed. It was only a matter of meters to the nearest bathroom. He stepped in, heading to the thankfully vacant stall farthest from the door, and locked the door. 

He took a deep, shuddery breath and hung his bag on the hook. The pressure was truly overwhelming, he _needed_ to touch himself. He undid his belt and opened his trousers with shaking hands. _Was he really about to do this? Was_ _this really who he was, what he’d become?_

His hand closed around his cock and his eyes fluttered shut, his mind flooded with images of Anakin. _Yes, this is who he is now. Yes..._

He quietly spat in his hand and began to jerk his cock quickly, gathering the precome leaking from the tip and using it as lube too. He was so hard, he began roughly pulling and twisting. _Yes..._

It felt _so good_ to finally, _finally_ be touching himself, to let himself do this—that class had been _torture_ and the whole year, two years, had been _torture_. He squeezed the head tight, imagaining sinking it slowly inside, so slowly that Anakin would whine and beg for more.

 _"Professor?”_ Anakin’s needy voice echoed in his mind, _“Professor is this right? Professor?”_ and Obi-Wan’s wrist moved faster, images flashing, _Anakin's hair in the sunlight, Anakin's bare arms, Anakin reading Plato—Anakin’s smile, Anakin’s pout, Anakin’s eyes, Anakin’s skin, Anakin…_

Obi-Wan was impossibly close already, so painfully hard. There was tension building, building, building, in his stomach. _He was so close._ He imagined gripping Anakin’s messy curls, slipping his cock between his pink lips, fucking his mouth. He could see it so clearly— _Anakin looking up at him, so eager, so curious, so desperate to please._

His mind flashed to the golden skin of Anakin’s thighs, imagined the way his legs met his ass, how he would look bent over his desk, legs spread, Obi-Wan’s cock pounding into him from behind. _He would take it so well, be so perfect, his Anakin_ … 

Obi-Wan’s wrist twisted a final time, and he came hard into his hand. His jaw was clenched, and he swallowed a groan. His come spilled in an extended, excruciatingly pleasurable release. _His Anakin…_

Obi-Wan quickly cleaned off his hands with toilet paper and flushed the evidence. His heart was still pounding, his breathing unsteady. He rested his head against the cool tile of the wall, trying to collect himself enough to walk back up to the mezzanine. _He’d just come thinking about a student._

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope that the Greek stuff didn't get too impenetrable. I really want to make Greek uhhh... _penetrable._


	4. Covert Maneuvers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to Discord and the anon asks that requested under-desk teasing/BJs! I added spanking, because look,, he was naughty!

_Four months after graduation..._

Anakin was running late, _as usual_ , and he struggled to open the door to the Classics and Anthropology building with hot Starbucks in both hands. He huffed a loud sigh of relief when the door suddenly opened from the inside. He absently murmured his thanks, carefully unstacking the teetering cups.

“No problem,” Obi-Wan said wryly. 

Anakin’s head snapped up, and he grinned. _Finally._ Obi-Wan had gone out of town all weekend for a conference, and had been flown back in the morning before his Monday afternoon class. That class was finally over, and Obi-Wan was _finally_ free. Anakin hadn’t gotten a chance to see him since _Friday_.

Obi-Wan shook his head and stood back, giving Anakin room to enter the building. He kissed Anakin on the cheek and took his drink. “Thank you, dear one.” He teased with a fond smile, “I had rather thought you’d forgotten your promise to bring me coffee. I was coming to find you in the lab.”

“I didn’t forget!” Anakin said quickly, holding up his cup and wiggling it. He looked around at the empty hallway, and pressed a quick kiss against Obi-Wan’s lips. “Of course I didn’t forget! I missed you.” He felt his face begin to burn, despite it probably being normal to miss your _husband._

He looked Obi-Wan over from his neat clothes to his tidy hair, and then refocused on the dark circles beneath his eyes. _Obi-Wan looked so good, but so tired._ Anakin felt an overwhelming rush of fondness and concern. “How was your flight?”

“Well…” Obi-Wan sighed. “You know I hate flying.” He started walking toward his office, and took a long sip. “I got back around noon, luckily there were no delays.” He hummed happily, taking another drink. “Thank you for the coffee, _Anankē._ It’s been a long day.”

“Of course, _Professor,”_ Anakin smiled widely, looking around the familiar halls. He felt almost smug walking beside Obi-Wan, thinking back to all those days where he’d not even dared to dream of anything like this. “How was the conference?”

“My paper was generally well received,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Dr. Maul wasn’t particularly happy with it, but he never is.”

“No!” Anakin laughed, “He really never is. I’m sorry that he was there.” He opened the door to the mezzanine and let Obi-Wan go through first. “Did he monologue through your question period again?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. He swiped a hand through his empty mailbox just to confirm its emptiness and turned back to give Anakin an annoyed look. “He did.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, and leaned back against Obi-Wan’s closed office door. He winced and glared at a pushpin holding a flyer, and shifted two inches to the left. “He needs to give it up. It’s just embarrassing for him at this point.”

“Academics hold grudges better than any other people I’ve ever met,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “The less something actually matters, the more fervent and cruel people can become about it.”

Anakin felt indignant on Obi-Wan’s behalf. “Still, it’s been what… a decade? More?” Obi-Wan made a muted noise of affirmation to the latter, and Anakin scoffed, “That’s absurd.”

“I doubt he’ll ever truly be able to let it go,” Obi-Wan grumbled, coming to stand _so close._

Anakin felt wonderfully crowded against the door, and he scanned the hallway for observers before tipping his head forward, meeting Obi-Wan’s lips. _Good thing it was nearly the end of the day, and everyone seemed to have gone home._ Anakin pulled Obi-Wan close and poured his feelings into the kiss—he’d been waiting for _days_ to see him, it was so overwhelming to _finally_ be near him again. The sweet pressure of Obi-Wan’s lips moving against his own felt like coming home. _He’d been going insane. He’d been missing half of himself_. 

Their elopement was still so recent that Anakin was still tan from the trip, and he had missed Obi-Wan every second of every day he’d been gone at the stupid conference like a physical ache in his chest. It just wasn’t _fair_ to go from being on a honeymoon like _that_ to being alone and missing someone. 

He _needed_ Obi-Wan, and kissing Obi-Wan he appreciated that maybe Obi-Wan _needed_ him too. 

Obi-Wan was kissing him back with focused intent, cupping his face gently and holding him close. His beard had a familiar, comforting scratch and Anakin broke the kiss, rubbing his cheek against it affectionately. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, trying to recapture and fix Obi-Wan’s scent in his mind. 

He was so distracted that he missed Obi-Wan’s hand moving to the doorknob, and startled badly when Obi-Wan suddenly pushed open the door behind him. Anakin scowled and Obi-Wan smiled crookedly, pushing him backwards into the office with a gentle shove with one hand on the chest. 

Anakin stumbled backwards, tripping slightly over his feet, and then laughed. Obi-Wan gave him a wide smile and pursued him inside, closing the door behind himself with a firm click. 

The office was silent except for their breathing, and Anakin set his coffee down on the desk behind him, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor. 

“I did miss you too, _Anankē_.” Obi-Wan stepped close, looking him up and down. “Very much.” 

Anakin beamed at him, feeling a swell of gratitude and adoration that probably shone from his face. _He’d never been very good at hiding his emotions, apparently. That’s what Obi-Wan had said in Venice, on the gondola to their hotel_. He stole the coffee cup out of Obi-Wan’s hand, setting it next to his own on the desk, and turned back, opening his mouth to reply—and was cut off by a kiss.

Obi-Wan pulled him close, kissing him deeply, sucking Anakin’s bottom lip into his mouth. Anakin moaned, feeling a swell of relief. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's neck and kissed him back. Obi-Wan stroked up and down his spine, and Anakin felt lightheaded and dizzy, swaying closer. His cock was getting hard, more quickly than he’d thought possible. _He’d missed this so much._

He felt Obi-Wan’s hands slide down slowly as they kissed, smoothing deliberately over the curve of his ass as if mapping and memorizing the shape. Anakin whined and his hips pressed forward as Obi-Wan’s fingers dug in, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. Anakin felt his cock press against the hardness in Obi-Wan’s trousers and whimpered. Obi-Wan broke the kiss and pulled his head back. His pupils were blown, his lips swollen, his cheeks pink. _He was so handsome._

Anakin took a deep, shuddery breath. “I love you, Obi-Wan.”

“And I you, _paidika,”_ Obi-Wan murmured, his eyes moving over Anakin’s shoulder towards his desk. “Come on.”

Anakin tipped his head to the side in confusion and Obi-Wan smiled at him—a warm, knowing smile that made Anakin squeeze his arms tighter, clinging to Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan turned them and began walking them backward until he sat back heavily in his office chair, pulling Anakin onto his lap. 

Anakin hummed his approval and adjusted how he was sitting until he was comfortably straddling Obi-Wan. _How many times had Anakin sat in office hours, watching Obi-Wan talk, imagining crawling into his lap exactly like this? A million, million times._

He squirmed again and Obi-Wan hissed as his movements rubbed against his cock. Anakin smirked with satisfaction at the noise. He rolled his hips again and Obi-Wan gripped his ass tightly, keeping him still. “Patience, _Anankē_. We’re in no hurry.”

“I am,” Anakin grumbled, unable to keep a smile off his face. He pressed his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, moving his hips in a slow circle despite Obi-Wan’s grip. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Patience, _paidika_ mine.” Obi-Wan repeated, and kissed him before he could argue back. He licked into Anakin’s mouth, and their tongues touched. He tasted like coffee, chocolate, and _Obi-Wan._ Anakin’s cock throbbed, and he rocked his hips, _it felt so good_. Obi-Wan gripped his hips tighter for a moment before letting go. “Do try to stay still, Anakin, and I promise I’ll fuck you.”

Anakin hummed with a mix of approval and frustration into the kiss, ceasing his movements. Obi-Wan’s hand slid under his shirt and stroked the skin of his back. He scratched slightly, their tongues tangling together. Anakin’s hips twitched forward, and he moaned, “Sorry.” _It felt so good._ He rolled his hips one more time for good measure, enjoying the pressure against his aching cock. _“Sorry.”_

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. He slid both his hands under Anakin’s black t-shirt, pulling it off over his head and dropping it on the floor. He took a moment to run his eyes over Anakin’s naked chest, and Anakin blushed at his observation. Obi-Wan leaned forward and began to kiss the exposed skin, licking a nipple and making Anakin whine and squirm. Obi-Wan hummed happily and began sucking purple marks in his favorite place—marking the hollow between Anakin’s collarbones, moving slowly down the indentation between his pectorals. His hands slid down from Anakin's back into his pants, fingers gripping the bare skin of Anakin’s ass. 

Anakin let his head fall back, gasping. _It felt so good._

A noise surprised him, and he looked at Obi-Wan’s computer. He tapped on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his voice breathy. “Professor, your Skype is going off.”

“What?” Obi-Wan tilted his head back, his gaze hazy with desire. 

Anakin smiled slowly, rocking his hips. “Can’t you hear it, _erastēs?”_

“I…” Obi-Wan blinked, shaking his head slightly and glaring at his computer. “No, I didn’t hear it.” He leaned over and checked who was calling. _“Fuck.”_

Anakin squirmed, and turned to look too. “What does Windu want?”

Obi-Wan just shook his head again, looking between topless Anakin and the Skype call. He abruptly pushed Anakin back, and said “Down.”

“Down?” Anakin frowned.

“Out of frame, please,” Obi-Wan said, trying to compose himself. “I need to take this.”

“Fine,” Anakin sighed, moving off Obi-Wan’s lap and sliding down to the floor, dipping his head out of frame and hiding under the desk.

Obi-Wan answered the call, “Hello, Mace.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose when the department chair’s face appeared on the screen. He readjusted his position until he was kneeling between Obi-Wan’s legs, tucked and hidden away under the desk. His cock ached, and he resented the interruption _very much._

“Obi-Wan, have you reviewed the letters of recommendation on Veld yet?” Windu’s voice was more than slightly tense. “We need to make a decision by the end of the day, and we’re waiting on your approval.”

“Yes, I read them,” Obi-Wan nodded. His voice was smooth, his face neutral. Anakin marveled at Obi-Wan’s ability to hide the fact that his cock was so hard that there was precome leaking into his trousers. “Dr. Ry-Gaul speaks very highly of him.” 

Anakin leaned forward and licked the wet spot, and Obi-Wan’s eye twitched. He put his hand on Anakin’s forehead and pushed him back and down hard. His face betrayed no other emotion, the movement of his hand subtle and invisible to the camera.

Anakin sighed, and rested his head obediently against Obi-Wan’s knee. His eyes fell on Obi-Wan’s slightly tan, bare ankle and he smiled. Obi-Wan was wearing his new Italian leather loafers. _They’d gotten them in Milan, Obi-Wan had let him help choose._ He smiled with satisfaction, unable to resist stroking the soft leather fondly at the memory. 

Windu’s voice was loud in the quiet office. “I’m leaning towards admitting him, we need more people cross-trained in archaeology. I know that Vos expressed interest in working with him on the dig in Turkey next summer.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his voice almost normal, “Well, that seems like a compelling case for admittance.” Anakin slid his hand up from the leather to circle his hand around Obi-Wan’s ankle, cuping and stroking his leg several times as if he were jerking Obi-Wan’s cock. He smirked when the leg twitched, and he began trailing his fingers higher, snuggling his cheek against Obi-Wan’s inner thigh. 

“You’re signing off?” Windu asked, his tone a warning. “It means we’re passing on Darra.” 

Anakin raised an eyebrow—he hadn’t known she’d applied. He stroked the fabric on Obi-Wan’s calf, trailing his fingers higher and stroking behind Obi-Wan’s knee to the back of his thigh. Obi-Wan’s leg twitched and Anakin smiled, stroking again with more pressure, and slid his hand around to rest on Obi-Wan’s inner thigh, moving steadily upwards. 

“She, ah…” Obi-Wan trailed off and flicked his eyes down for a moment in a fierce flash of warning as Anakin’s hand approached his cock. Anakin gave him an innocent look and halted his hand’s progress, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “She has a few good leads at other universities. I passed her thesis on to Dr. Tachi, and she has plenty of pull in her department. It would be better for her chances at a career to leave her alma mater, I think.” His voice was level, but Anakin knew him well enough to hear the buried intent. 

Obi-Wan shifted slightly in his seat, and Anakin used the opportunity to continue his mission of sliding both his mouth and his hand closer to Obi-Wan’s cock. He was so aroused that at that point, his options were either touch Obi-Wan, or touch himself, and he knew by now that Obi-Wan liked him to wait until given permission, and Anakin liked _very much_ waiting for permission _._

_Besides, he wanted to touch Obi-Wan. More than wanted—he needed to touch him. He’d spent enough time stroking his own cock over the weekend when they were apart. He wanted to feel Obi-Wan’s cock in his hand, in his mouth, in his ass._

His hand reached the outline of Obi-Wan’s erection and he ran his fingers along the length, appreciating how big it was. He moved his head forward tentatively, looking up with a question in his eyes, giving Obi-Wan another chance to push him back.

Obi-Wan hissed a breath, but didn’t stop Anakin as he kissed the wet place again. Anakin smiled against his cock, his hands moving to quietly unfasten Obi-Wan’s belt. Obi-Wan did not stop him, his cheeks flushed. _He wanted it too._ He was looking seriously into the camera, for all intents and purposes entirely focused on the conversation.

Windu nodded gravely, “I agree. Are we settled on Veld?”

“Yes, contact him.” Obi-Wan said, his tone flat. Anakin slid a hand inside his pants, and Obi-Wan clenched his jaw as Anakin finally got his fingers on the bare skin of his hard cock. Obi-Wan ran a hand down his face, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “I think he’ll be a good addition to the department.”

“Very well,” Windu said with a sigh, apparently quite relieved at a decision being made. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. How was your trip?” 

Anakin unbuttoned and unzipped Obi-Wan’s trousers, opening them wide enough to free his cock. He grinned with satisfaction when it jutted out, flushed and thick. _He loved Obi-Wan’s cock._

“It was good, there were some very good papers.” Obi-Wan was becoming less able to hide the need in his voice. He swallowed and said in a dark tone, “Dr. Maul was there, which was a pleasure as usual.”

Windu sounded almost amused. “Did anyone else get to ask a question?”

Anakin huffed a breath, muffling a laugh at how _everyone_ knew about Dr. Maul’s obsession with critiquing Obi-Wan’s work. Obi-Wan’s cock twitched when he breathed on it, and he shot Obi-Wan a smirk. He blew air again intentionally against the head of Obi-Wan’s cock, keeping his mouth slightly back. 

“No,” Obi-Wan grimaced. He slid a hand into Anakin’s hair, scratching his scalp and holding him in place. Anakin’s cock throbbed at the slight tug, and his eyes slid shut at being held. “They certainly did not. The reaction was otherwise good, though, and it was worth the trip.”

Windu sounded satisfied. “Good. I’m going to call Veld. Thank you again for your help, Obi-Wan.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan nodded, and the call disconnected. 

There was a moment of silence.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, and dangerous. Anakin licked the head of his cock, and Obi-Wan hissed, gripping Anakin’s hair tightly for a moment before relaxing his hand. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Really?” Anakin murmured, letting his lips drag down the length of Obi-Wan’s cock. “I don’t see why not.” He licked slowly back up, his hand coming up to begin stroking gently. Obi-Wan’s hips twitched, and Anakin kissed the head of his cock, pulling back. “You’re good at hiding your feelings, _erastēs.”_

Obi-Wan made a negative noise and used his grip on Anakin’s hair to pull his head directly in front of his cock, pressing the tip firmly against Anakin’s lips. He moved his hips slightly and smeared his precome across Anakin’s pouting bottom lip with a satisfied expression. “That’s not a compliment I’m particularly happy to receive, _paidika.”_

Anakin looked up with wide eyes, and quickly sucked saliva into his mouth. He relaxed his jaw and stuck out his tongue, opening wide to show that his mouth was wet and ready for Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan gave him a look of approval, and then tugged gently on his hair again, pulling him close at the same time he pushed his cock deep inside his mouth, touching his throat. 

Anakin moaned, and Obi-Wan fucked further in, almost making him gag. Anakin’s cock throbbed, and his eyes fluttered closed. Obi-Wan sounded thoughtful and _intent_. “That was awfully naughty of you, Anakin. You were very bad just now, trying to distract me like that in front of the department chair.”

Anakin blinked up at him, eyes wide, mouth full of cock. He hummed apologetically, waiting for Obi-Wan to decide what his punishment would be. _He couldn’t wait, ‘punishments’ were the best. He’d missed it so much the last few days, he needed it, craved it._

Obi-Wan smiled at him, reading his thoughts from his face. “You do look perfect like this, love, taking my cock in your mouth so well.” He let go of Anakin’s hair, letting him move freely. Anakin took the opportunity to move back and take a deep breath before beginning to bob his head in rhythm with the strokes of his hand, lips and tongue working to pleasure Obi-Wan’s cock.

Obi-Wan’s hands had drifted together, and he absently spun the new ring on his left hand, watching Anakin suck his cock with satisfaction. “Very good, _Anankē_ _.”_

Anakin pulled back to breathe, and Obi-Wan grabbed his chin before he could get his mouth back on Obi-Wan’s cock. He tilted Anakin’s face until they made eye contact. Anakin whined, his cock throbbing, at the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “I’ve decided you should be spanked, sweetheart. You’ve earned it, being very naughty while I was working.”

Anakin whined and nodded, “Please, _Professor,_ I’m sorry, I just needed…”

“I know, _Anankē.”_ Obi-Wan said reassuringly. “I’ll give you what you need.” He pushed his chair back, beckoning Anakin to come out from under the desk. 

Anakin clambered out awkwardly, almost too aroused to move properly. He stood before Obi-Wan, eyes drawn back on his exposed, hard cock. “Please, _Professor.”_

Obi-Wan stood up abruptly, and placed his hands on Anakin’s hips, spinning him around to face his desk. Anakin exhaled hard, and felt Obi-Wan press a hand on his back, bending him forward. He complied easily, letting Obi-Wan arrange him how he wanted him. 

He pressed his hips forward seeking relief for his aching cock, and Obi-Wan swatted him lightly on the ass. “Not yet, dear one.”

“Please, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined, turning his head back, seeking contact. “Can I come first?”

“What do you think?” Obi-Wan laughed. He pulled Anakin’s pants down roughly, sighing with satisfaction at the sight of Anakin’s bare ass. He stroked the skin almost reverently. “How many do you want, my love?”

Anakin hummed, trying to balance between his need for Obi-Wan to spank him and fuck him. “Five, please, just five.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin trembled, the anticipation was overwhelmingly good. He gasped and looked back over his shoulder sharply when he felt the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock slide between his legs. 

“Are you?” Anakin asked, mouth feeling wet. He swallowed and tried again, hopefully. “Will you fuck me first? Please?” His voice was quickly turning into a whine. “Will you, please, Obi-Wan? I want you to, _Professor,_ please?”

Obi-Wan barked a laugh, and gave him a hard spank. Anakin gasped, and Obi-Wan leaned forward, rubbing his cock between Anakin’s legs again, his mouth next to Anakin’s ear. “This is just for me, sweetheart. You should see what you look like, bent over like this, begging for my cock.” He pulled back, and spanked Anakin sharply.

Anakin moaned, and Obi-Wan smoothed his hand on Anakin’s ass, stroking where he’d spanked, his voice almost meditative. “I thought about this a million times, _paidika._ I thought about fucking you just like this—bending you over my desk, taking you from behind, sinking into your tight little ass. You look so good to me like this, darling.” He swatted him hard again. 

Anakin’s hips jerked forward and he whined. “Thank you, _Professor.”_

 _“Anankē,”_ Obi-Wan groaned, rubbing his cock on Anakin’s entrance. He pulled back and spanked him hard. Anakin whined, and then swayed his back, tilting his hips, trying to induce Obi-Wan to fuck him. Obi-Wan laughed. “That’s only four, sweetheart.”

“I know,” Anakin moaned, spreading his legs slightly farther apart and rocking his hips back to better expose himself. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

He whined again when he felt Obi-Wan bend over him, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against the nape of his neck, cock teasing between his legs. “At least you ask politely, _Anankē.”_

Obi-Wan pulled back, and Anakin heard the rattle of a desk drawer being opened and the pop of the top of a bottle. He looked over his shoulder. “Are you keeping lube here now?”

Obi-Wan met his eyes, smug. “Yes, I think it’s a good idea.” His slick fingers began to circle Anakin’s ass. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Anakin gasped. "Fantastic idea." Obi-Wan slid two fingers inside him, and he whined. “Fuck me, please, please, fuck me.”

Obi-Wan laughed, his fingers moving in and out of Anakin slowly, opening him up. He spanked Anakin hard, and said, “There’s your five, _paidika._ Did you like that?”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded, his cheek pressing against the desk, all of his focus on the way Obi-Wan’s fingers were drawing closer and closer to stroking his prostate. He spoke rapidly and breathily. “Thank you, I liked it, it was nice. Will you fuck me? Fuck me now?”

“So impatient,” Obi-Wan sighed, “But I suppose I can do that for you, _Anankē.”_

“Thank you,” Anakin exhaled with relief, tilting his hips in invitation again. He moaned when Obi-Wan added another finger, stretching him out, making him relax. He let Obi-Wan work him open for what felt like _forever_ before he whined, “I’m ready, _Professor,_ I know I am, please.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan agreed, voice rough. He rolled on a condom, and dispensed more lube onto his fingers—rubbing his cock, spreading it and preparing himself too. He brought the tip back to Anakin’s entrance, and instead of sliding it away teasingly, he began to press his cock inside very slowly. 

Anakin squirmed and whined. _Too slowly. He needed it. He needed it now._ “Please, please, more, Obi-Wan, more _now.”_

“Patience,” Obi-Wan said, voice full of satisfaction. He stroked Anakin’s back, getting him to lay flat, sliding his cock in and out slowly. “You take it so well, love.”

“Thank you,” Anakin whined. “I need it, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Obi-Wan murmured, grabbing Anakin’s hips. He held him steady, and then thrust his hips forward hard, sinking his cock in as far as he could, filling him up. Anakin moaned loudly, and Obi-Wan began to fuck him rapidly, their hips slapping together. “I couldn’t think about anything else."

“Me neither,” Anakin said. “Me neither.”

“Give me your hand,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, and Anakin frowned, awkwardly raising his hand, unsure of what was happening. “Very good, darling, thank you.” Obi-Wan leaned down and spat into his hand. “You may touch yourself, Anakin.”

“Thank you!” Anakin groaned. He closed his fist, capturing the saliva and moved his hand to his cock, stroking himself rapidly. Obi-Wan continued to fuck him hard, and he was already _so close_. “Can I come, please?”

“Of course, darling, come whenever you can, I want you to come.” Obi-Wan said, stroking his back again and fucking him so hard his whole body jolted. Anakin took it easily, and began using the rhythm to jerk himself off. 

It felt so good, and he was so close, his stomach felt so tight, it felt nearly overwhelming. He was _so close._ “Thank you, _Professor,”_ he whined. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my _Anankē.”_ Obi-Wan murmured, voice rich with approval. “Come on my cock, Anakin, I want to feel you come, so hot and tight, you’re so perfect, please, darling, come—”

Anakin groaned and went limp, his cock spilling in an overwhelming rush of pleasure. He tried to catch the come with his hand, lost in the consuming pulse of the orgasm, pleasure cascading through his body. Obi-Wan’s cock fucked him through it, and Anakin felt so _perfect_. He moaned, “Obi-Wan, come too, please, _Professor._ I love you so much, Obi-Wan…”

Obi-Wan made a noise low in his throat, holding Anakin’s hips tight as he began to lose his rhythm, fucking him with sharp thrusts. Anakin rolled his hips back, meeting his thrusts as best he could, and Obi-Wan groaned, stroking Anakin’s back. “So perfect…”

Anakin turned his head to try to catch eye contact, and smiled widely, letting his feelings show on his face. Obi-Wan looked at him so fondly, mirroring his smile back until Anakin watched the orgasm overtake him, one last final thrust and a groan, his face going tight as he spilled his come inside Anakin. 

They were still together for a long moment, breathing and looking into each other’s eyes. Anakin broke eye contact, looking around the small office, so crowded with familiar books. He’d spent so many hours here, wanting what he now had. _It was perfect._

Obi-Wan pulled out, and began cleaning them both up with wet wipes that materialized from the same drawer as the lube and condom. Anakin relaxed. He was used to being cleaned, and enjoyed it very much. It was so intimate, and Obi-Wan was so careful, so gentle, taking care of him. It was almost better than the sex. _Almost._

“How was teaching your first session?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice returning to normal. He wiped the come and saliva from Anakin’s hands.

Anakin sighed, letting him move him however he wanted. “It was good, I liked it well enough. Lower level computer science isn’t rocket science. It’s easy to explain.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan nodded in approval. He sat Anakin up, and began passing him clothes. “I’m very glad you’re comfortable with it.”

Anakin yawned, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “Can we go home? Can we order pizza?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, kissing him on the forehead. “Yes, we can do both those things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This AU just really...... keeps on giving haha
> 
> Why are they talking about graduate school admission in September, you ask? Well—I have an answer. I didn't think it through until editing, and then just... didn't change it 😂
> 
> whispers: _μουσάων Ἑλικωνιάδων ἀρχώμεθ᾽ ἀείδειν, αἵθ᾽ Ἑλικῶνος ἔχουσιν ὄρος μέγα τε ζάθεόν τε καί τε περὶ κρήνην ἰοειδέα πόσσ᾽ ἁπαλοῖσιν ὀρχεῦνται καὶ βωμὸν ἐρισθενέος Κρονίωνος. this is for you, Μοῦσαι. thanks for the porn. can i please write about politics and metaphysics yet???_


	5. Routine Pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Hope you are well. I've been "going through some stuff" and haven't written much as a result. But! I've finally finished a little chapter for this AU, and hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading!!

_One year and seven months before graduation..._

Anakin was dreaming about Professor Kenobi again. 

He wasn’t aware it was a dream, of course. It felt so real and so perfect in the moment. He couldn’t see Obi-Wan, but he knew he was there behind him, taking off his clothes. Anakin could hear the soft sounds of fabric being folded and set aside as he pressed his face into the soft, white sheets and tried to breathe. 

He was so _aware_ of his naked body—the flushed heat of his skin and the cool air of the room. His back was swayed, his hips pushed back, and his legs spread open wide. He could feel Obi-Wan’s eyes on him, somehow _knew_ he was looking, and Anakin trembled with anticipation. 

He sucked in a gasp when he felt the lightest brush of fingertips down his spine, trailing lower and lower and coming closer to where Anakin wanted them most. He _knew_ they were Obi-Wan’s fingers—the long, thick fingers that he’d spent so many hours observing as they spun his heavy fountain pen or held his mug of tea. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers finally dipped between Anakin’s spread legs, and Anakin gasped again, louder this time. Obi-Wan stroked all of the sensitive skin around Anakin’s exposed ass but teasingly avoided touching his actual entrance. Anakin whined, rolling his hips back and trying to get the fingers to return and press inside. He wanted Obi-Wan to fuck him with his fingers more than anything, and he huffed with frustration when the fingers disappeared. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s calm, disappointed voice washed over him. Anakin made an apologetic noise, his cock throbbing. Obi-Wan stroked down further, tugging gently on Anakin’s balls. “Hold still, please.”

Anakin began to turn his head, filled with desire to see Obi-Wan’s face, study his eyes. He stilled when he felt Obi-Wan’s fingers slide into his hair, the palm cupping the back of his head. The fingers abruptly tightened into a fist, holding Anakin in place and pressing his face down into the mattress. 

“Head stays down,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “Remember my instructions?”

Anakin swallowed and nodded as much as he could, causing pleasant tugs on his hair. He pushed his face down into the sheets, and his vision remained obscured. His dreams mostly left Obi-Wan’s appearance frustratingly vague or absent entirely, and focused instead on his _voice._

When Anakin made no further attempts to turn, Obi-Wan made a small, thoughtful hum of satisfaction and removed his hand. It was the same sound as when Anakin asked a particularly good question in class—a rare and precious noise that always sent a thrill down Anakin’s spine. Anakin exhaled hard as he felt precome begin to gather at the tip of his cock. 

He felt dizzy with arousal, so desperate for Obi-Wan to put his hands back on his body. He took shallow, rapid breaths, and slid his palms along the soft sheets. He wanted to _see_ and _touch_ , but Obi-Wan wanted him to hold still. It was so frustrating, and his eyes began to burn with tears, his throat thick. 

Obi-Wan’s hands suddenly grasped the narrowest point of Anakin’s waist and slid back, his long fingers curling around Anakin’s hipbones and digging in, gripping tight and tilting down. Obi-Wan adjusted the angle of Anakin’s hips, exposing his ass still further. He made the satisfied noise again, and moved one of his hands back down to stroke Anakin‘s cock.

Anakin’s eyes were still burning, and they almost itched. It was something far beyond the mild discomfort of tears, and was beginning to wake him up. He felt the gentlest touch on his ass, one last contact from dream Obi-Wan before the entire scene faded away, growing more and more distant, disappearing slowly and then all at once. 

Anakin woke up, and Obi-Wan was gone. 

Anakin huffed with frustration and shifted, painfully aware that he was alone in his bed with an aching erection—though he thought bitterly, _what else was new?_ The dream had been so good, felt so real, just like they always did. He dreamed about sex with Professor Kenobi too much for his sanity, probably, but it was never enough. He always woke up wanting more. At least this time he hadn’t come in his sleep, and saved himself waking up sticky and uncomfortable. 

Anakin tried to open his eyes and then groaned loudly—it felt like they were full of sand. He wasn’t supposed to sleep in his contacts, and _hated_ when he did. He could feel the lenses sticking to his eyes and his eyelids, and it was incredibly unpleasant. At least the pain was solving the problem of his aching cock. 

He generally felt _awful_ , and didn’t want to move. _Why_ had he fallen asleep in contacts? As he tried to sit up, the night before came rushing back in a wave of very real nausea. Despite the pain, he opened his eyes again and fell out of bed in his hurry to get to his bathroom before he puked. 

He made it just in time. His stomach was empty except for bile—he hadn’t eaten much and had drunk a great deal, which was always a poor choice. Eventually he finished dry heaving, and he curled around the toilet, completely miserable. The cool tile of the floor felt so good, he couldn’t get up. This was the most hungover he’d possibly ever been. _Why had he gotten so drunk?_

He shakily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and winced at the contact with inflamed skin. He’d drunkenly and sloppily made out with a man with a beard at the party, and his chin had been rubbed raw against the rough, scratchy hair. The beard burn felt hot and painful, and he needed to look and see the damage. He pulled himself up with effort and washed his hands, grimacing as he removed his dry contacts out of his eyes and put them into solution. The relief of some eyedrops was immense, and he took a deep, steadying breath. _He was okay. He was awake. He was fine._

He filled a cup with water and chugged it, feeling immensely dehydrated, and grimaced at the aftertaste of puke. He gargled some mouthwash and gently washed his face and patted it dry, jamming his glasses on to survey the damage. His painful chin wasn’t as neon pink as he’d worried it would be, but there was also an unexpected and very noticeable series of bruises down his neck. 

He glowered at his reflection. If anyone looked at him for more than a second, the purple hickeys and beard burn would be extremely obvious. The marks brought him no satisfaction, only irritation and embarrassment. The stranger had no claim on him, no right to mark his skin. _If Obi-Wan had done it, it would be different, but he hadn’t and he wouldn’t, so it didn’t matter._

Anakin felt a swell of dread at the idea of going in public with the marks. He stared at them, deliberating. _Could he skip class today? No, he couldn’t. He had to go._ He had a paper to turn in, and Professor Kenobi did not accept late submissions any more than he accepted digital ones—not without extremely good reason. Excessive drinking on the night before class was not a good reason. _Halloween or not._

Anakin huffed in frustration and turned away from the mirror. There was nothing he could do about the marks now, except hope nobody cared or judged him much. He turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up to the right temperature, willing himself to feel better. 

The only person he truly didn’t want to see the marks was Professor Kenobi, but he reminded himself emphatically that it didn’t actually matter if he did see them. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan wouldn’t look long enough to notice or care if he did. Obi-Wan never noticed anything about Anakin except for his work in class. He was so _distant_ that Anakin figured that he probably didn’t even register in his mind as a real person—he was just another student, a face in the crowd.

For a moment Anakin allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if his feelings were returned, but the fantasy disappeared almost immediately. It was too impossible. He wanted to laugh at the idea of Obi-Wan doing the equivalent of what he’d done, kissing and touching someone random because of physical similarity to Anakin.

It was a painfully ludicrous, impossible image. Obi-Wan was so much better than that—he’d never be so pathetic and desperate. He was _perfect;_ he could have whoever he wanted. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have to suffer a perpetual, aching crush like this. Besides, he was probably straight and probably taken, as Anakin’s long-standing internal dialogue reminded him. _Probably straight and probably taken._

Anakin stepped into the shower and began to quickly clean himself off. He was feeling better already with the contacts out, and the hot water was soothing. It felt good to rid himself of the invisible pollution of the night before. Kissing the stranger who looked vaguely like Obi-Wan had _not_ helped him like he’d hoped. 

Anakin washed away the soap and frowned. He hadn’t planned on doing anything special for Halloween at all, but Padmé had invited him to houseparty at _Bail Organa’s_. Anakin knew that Bail was friends with Obi-Wan because he’d overheard Bail mention Obi-Wan once in a passing comment and had clung on to it. Any scrap of information about Professor Kenobi’s personal life was more precious than gold to Anakin. _He knew he was so pathetic._ He’d wanted to turn Padmé down, but the thought _‘He might be there’_ had haunted him. Of course he couldn’t say no. 

Obi-Wan had _not_ been at the party, of course. 

Anakin had wandered around Bail’s house for too long looking for him, growing steadily more drunk as it became clear he hadn’t come. It was about then that he’d been approached by a fairly attractive stranger with a beard, and Anakin blushed to remember what had happened after that, the frantic kissing and wandering hands.

The memories were embarrassing but his cock began to grow hard again anyway. Anakin knew he needed to get off at least once before he left for class, or else it would be a painful distraction. He pushed his face into the hot stream of water and allowed himself to think back through his dream, and enjoy how it felt to hear Obi-Wan’s firm voice ordering him around like that. 

His cock throbbed painfully when he allowed himself to pretend that it _had_ been Obi-Wan at the party the night before—that Obi-Wan had approached him in the crowd, whispered in his ear, and kissed him sloppily, and that Obi-Wan had led Anakin to the bathroom, and pressed him against the sink. 

Anakin found the small bottle of lube he kept in the shower and slicked his hands. The water pounded against his back as he tipped his head forward to rest against the wall. One hand grasped his cock gently, and the other moved back to brush against his ass. The light contact with his entrance made him moan quietly, remembering the all-consuming sensations of the dream and what _should_ have happened next, with Obi-Wan’s thick fingers pushing inside him—opening him up and preparing him to be fucked. 

Anakin’s mind flipped between the drunk kisses and wandering hands of the party, and the trembling anticipation of the dream. He imagined Obi-Wan pushing his fingers inside slowly, and mimicked the action with his own hand, making himself shudder with pleasure, his cock pulsing. He already felt so close.

Obi-Wan filled his thoughts, his accented voice echoing in his memory. Anakin slid in another slick finger, and exhaled hard, his other hand moving faster and faster on his cock. _If it really had been Obi-Wan at the party, Anakin would have happily turned around and bent over the sink for him, letting him pull down his pants and fuck him hard, no matter the number of people outside._

He was somehow sure that Obi-Wan would take control during sex, and that he wanted obedience. Anakin wanted to obey, wanted to please him—it seemed like Obi-Wan was never _pleased._ Anakin wanted him to be _happy_ , wanted nothing more than to see him satisfied. His hand moved faster and faster, and his fingers pressed deeper. He tried to supply what it would sound like when Obi-Wan came, the look on his face. 

The idea of Obi-Wan’s blue eyes turned black with desire, flushed and breathing hard as he slid his cock into Anakin’s body, fucking him harder and harder as he drew close to coming was intoxicating. It was so incredible, so impossible. 

Anakin imagined Obi-Wan gasping his name as he came, and it pushed him immediately over the edge into his own orgasm. His muscles tightened and he groaned quietly as his hand filled with come. He felt more relaxed, and slightly chagrined, cleaning his hands and sighing. _He was too hung up on the impossible. He needed to let Obi-Wan go and move on._

Anakin dressed quickly and rushed downstairs. He popped a pod in the Keurig and poured a probably excessive amount of creamer in his to-go mug, checking the time on his phone. He was running late, as usual. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and waved goodbye to his mom, who gave him an unimpressed look. Anakin wasn’t sure if it was because he was late, or because she’d noticed the hickeys. _Probably both._

Luckily traffic was good, and there was a parking spot near the classics building. He jogged inside, biting his lip as he passed through hallways of closed doors, classes already in session. He wasn’t _that_ late, it would be fine. 

He pushed the classroom door open gently and made direct eye contact with Professor Kenobi, whose small smile dropped at the sight of him, face going blank as the room fell quiet.

Anakin grimaced apologetically, moving near to his desk and digging through his backpack for his paper. Obi-Wan gave him a flat look as he dropped it off, but didn’t make any comments about his tardiness, which was both a relief and a disappointment. 

Anakin felt himself blushing and tried to ignore a few murmured comments of _‘He wears glasses?_ ’ and _‘Look at his hickeys...’_ as he sat down and pulled out his books. He looked up, waiting for Obi-Wan to resume the class and discovered with a jolt that Obi-Wan was still looking at him with that flat, blank expression, which was unusual—usually he wouldn’t look at Anakin until it was his turn to translate. 

Anakin wondered if it was his glasses or his beard burn, or maybe both. He felt his cheeks get hot under the observation and he dropped his eyes to his desk. The room was oddly quiet for a moment before Obi-Wan coughed awkwardly and resumed class. Anakin pushed his glasses up his nose, and kept his eyes down. 

_He wished that he could disappear. This was hell._

—

Quinlan Vos was replying to emails when he heard a series of rapid, forceful knocks on his office door. He looked at the time, and smirked. “Come in!”

The door swung open and shut quickly, with Obi-Wan entering the room with a stricken expression. “Vos, can I—”

“Sure,” Quinlan cut him off, reaching down and opening the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out his stashed bottle of rum. “Rough class?”

Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look, and snagged the bottle, sitting heavily in one of the visitor chairs across the desk. “It was fine.”

“Really?” Quinlan said skeptically, watching with a raised eyebrow as Obi-Wan unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a drink. “I have glasses, you know.”

“You’re not the only one,” Obi-Wan grimaced. “This is really terrible stuff, Quin.”

“You’re welcome,” Quinlan rolled his eyes and pushed two clean mugs in Obi-Wan’s direction. “Pour me some too, I’ve been answering emails for an hour and want to die.” 

Obi-Wan obliged him, pouring a shot into each and setting the bottle down hard. Quinlan sipped delicately as he watched Obi-Wan throw back the contents of his glass and then refill it. When Obi-Wan seemed unwilling to continue the conversation by volunteering information, Quinlan prompted him. “What did you mean about glasses?”

Obi-Wan sighed, still looking unusually flustered. “Anakin came to class wearing glasses. I had no notion he normally wears contact lenses.” He took another drink, and grimaced at the aftertaste.

Quinlan tried to keep his grin contained, and failed. He hid it behind his mug as he took a sip, and managed to look vaguely sympathetic when he put the cup down. “I take it he looked good.”

“He did,” Obi-Wan said miserably. “But that’s not… not the primary issue.”

“It’s not?” Quinlan laughed, tapping his fingers on the desk. “It seems like it’s the _primary issue_ in your life at the moment. Well, I suppose it’s a tie between Anakin Skywalker and Dr. Opress.”

Obi-Wan glared at him. “Don’t talk about Maul. I do not need to think about him. Not right now.”

“Fine,” Quinlan shrugged and took another sip. “So what’s the problem, Obi?”

“Don’t call me that either.” Obi-Wan gave him a sour look. “Honestly you are the most irritating person I know. If you didn’t have desk rum, I wouldn’t subject myself to this torture.”

Quinlan smiled impishly. “I’m pretty sure Luminara has something in her office. I suggest you go ask her, instead.”

“I will absolutely not do that,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. He played with his glass for a moment, looking depressed. “He had beard burn, alright? Beard burn and hickeys all down his neck.”

“Oh ho ho!” Quinlan chortled. “He must have had a better Halloween than you. What were you doing, grading quizzes?”

Obi-Wan sighed again, and refilled his cup with another shot. Quinlan snagged the bottle out of his hand, and put it back in the drawer. Obi-Wan watched the rum disappear with a resigned expression. “I’m in hell, Quin. Do you think Mace would sponsor my sabbatical proposal? Or let me teach Latin next quarter?”

Quinlan considered this and then scoffed, “Mace is more likely to tell you to fake your own death for insurance money than give you funding for sabbatical, so good luck with that." He took a drink and set his cup aside. "Besides, you are aware he’s taking Latin too, right?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan almost pouted, absently straightening his tie. “But there are more sections of Latin than Greek. He might not be in my class for once.”

Quinlan gave him a skeptical look. “He absolutely would be in your class, Obi-Wan, you know that. The boy is completely infatuated.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, and took a final swing before setting his cup down hard. “I know.”

Quinlan hummed thoughtfully. “You could ask to lead the study abroad program. He would definitely go, but at least you’d be miserable in Rome instead of miserable here.”

Obi-Wan considered and then laughed without humor. “You know that would be so much worse, right? I can hardly handle one hour a day in a controlled environment. Late dinner with wine would be a disaster.”

“Well,” Quinlan shrugged apologetically. “I guess you just have a year and a half more to go then before he graduates and leaves.”

“A year and a half, and then he leaves.” Obi-Wan repeated miserably, and then stood up. “Thanks for the rum, Vos.”

“No problem,” Quinlan smiled widely. “Same time tomorrow?”

Obi-Wan huffed, like he always did, at the implication that this was a pattern, even though it clearly was. “Absolutely not. I’m getting another bottle for my own desk. I’m thinking Laphroaig this time.” He ran a hand over his face and turned to go. 

“Sounds good, see you then!” Quinlan called after him. “You owe me _several_ drinks!”

Obi-Wan waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder and hustled out of the room. Quinlan laughed, and turned back to his computer. Somehow, a few too many emails to answer didn’t seem like the worst problem to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Obi-Wan. Life is torture, isn't it 😂
> 
> I hope the Muses are pleased by this offering and let me continue LT and my other WIPs my god I'm tired of this dry spell haha
> 
> Say hi on [my tumblr!](https://intermundia.tumblr.com)


	6. Halloween (cum floribus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The five times Obi-Wan did not wear a costume, and the one time he did.
> 
> I wrote this fic today on Halloween, and posting it because I'm no longer sober enough to edit it! Typos will be fixed tomorrow, but I wanted to share it on the day haha. Happy Halloween everybody! :)

_One year and seven months before graduation..._

Quinlan knocked on the frame of Obi-Wan’s open office door, but Obi-Wan didn’t look up. 

It was already getting dark outside, with the sun setting absurdly early this time of year. Brown maple leaves brushed up and tapped against Obi-Wan’s windows in the wind, and Quinlan watched one fall. It was going to be a chilly evening. Quinlan coughed loudly, announcing his presence again.

Obi-Wan frowned, gesturing vaguely and inviting Quinlan in without looking up from the paper he was scrawling over in red ink. Quinlan smirked, imagining the reaction of whatever poor student would be getting _that_ back. He sat heavily in one of Obi-Wan’s visitor chairs, and crossed his legs at the ankle, getting comfortable. 

Obi-Wan wrote a grade, circled it, and looked up. “Yes?”

“Are you coming tonight?” Quinlan asked brightly. The answer was probably negative, but Quinlan hoped he might be able to convince him. Obi-Wan needed to get out of whatever slump he’d gotten into, and a party would help, Quinlan was sure of it. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “Am I coming where?” 

“Bail’s?” Quinlan sighed dramatically. “I know you were invited, Breha told me.” 

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh without humor and shook his head. “No, absolutely not. Please do pass on a hello to them from me, though.” His words were a dismissal, and he reached for the next paper in the stack.

“Why not?” Quinlan whined, refusing to just _leave_. He looked over Obi-Wan’s boring, normal teaching clothes. There wasn’t a _hint_ of Halloween. He could have at _least_ worn an orange tie or something, but _no._ Obi-Wan was the most boring human alive—the most boring person in the most boring slump in the world. 

Obi-Wan gave him an unimpressed look, as if he knew what Quinlan was thinking. “It’s Wednesday. We teach tomorrow.”

“I know, but it’s _Halloween.”_

“So?” Obi-Wan looked closer at the paper in front of him and frowned, marking a large X on the margin. “I don’t go out on weeknights.”

“You don’t go out at all, and you know it,” Quinlan grumbled. He sullenly adjusted his pirate hat. “It would be _fun_ —you could dress up, have _fun_ , get laid... don’t give me that look, you can’t just pine over a student for years. You need to get laid.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched, and the glare he shot Quinlan was lethal. “I am not pining.”

Quinlan tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hold back a knowing smile. “Oh really?”

“Really.” Obi-Wan said, voice grim. He looked down, and swallowed. “That wouldn’t be an appropriate thing for someone to do.” 

The muffled hurt in the expression on his face made Quinlan feel a tug of regret for teasing him. Obi-Wan wrote a question mark on the side of someone’s paper, and the dot was emphatic. 

Quinlan spoke with what he judged to be an unusual amount of gentleness. “You could go see him. You know he might be there.” 

“Who?” Obi-Wan sounded disinterested, and made a large red mark, writing a short note beneath.

“I’ve seen him at Bail’s before.” Quinlan shrugged casually. “I know you did too, that time. You know, weirdly enough, I think it was _the last time you went to Bail and Breha’s_. You can be at the same party as him, Obi-Wan, it’s not illegal. You can talk to him. You won’t get in trouble for talking to him.” 

“I can’t do that,” Obi-Wan said, voice quiet. The look he gave Quinlan was full of something like fear. “Not when he’s drunk, Quin. Definitely not when I am.”

Quinlan sighed and stood up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and tipped his hat, his voice still kind. “Fine, be boring.” 

Obi-Wan flashed him a real smile, and then looked back at his work. “I will.” 

—

_Seven months before graduation..._

Padmé didn’t really care about an engraved gem that had been found at an archaeological dig in Turkey. She didn’t really care that the gem reflected some kind of important iconography, and how the implications of the gem’s design changed the importance of the site. _Or something, she wasn’t really listening to the guest lecturer_. 

She was there to see Professor Kenobi and Anakin in a room, together. It never happened anymore socially. They’d been at a party together once, years ago, and she’d hardly seen him since. She knew for a fact that Anakin hadn’t seen him, which was a very interesting fact to Padmé. 

Why was Obi-Wan avoiding Anakin? She wished she knew him better, but they were only casual acquaintances—he was a friend of a friend, and they’d exchanged a few words, but they were definitely not close enough for her to just _ask_ him. So, she was tagging along with Anakin to campus to attend a lecture, and be in a room with both of them. 

Despite it being Halloween, it also happened to be the date of a Classics Department sponsored lecture by a visiting archaeology professor. Obi-Wan was hosting, and Anakin never skipped an event he _knew_ Obi-Wan would be attending. 

Padmé and Anakin would be going out to the bars after this, along with half the other graduate students in the room. Other than the insanely niche lecture, the event was almost fun, and quite casual. Almost everyone had on some kind of small token of a costume. _Almost_ everyone.

Padmé leaned over and whispered in Anakin’s ear, “Your _Professor_ is looking very cute today.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Anakin whispered back, blushing. “He never does anything for Halloween, he’s better than that.”

She hummed her doubt about the merits of that statement, her eyes fixed on Obi-Wan, studying in his slacks and beige knit sweater. She whispered again, leaning close to Anakin’s side, “I love how he is in no way acknowledging that it’s Halloween. He could have at least worn an orange sweater.”

“Shush,” Anakin whispered emphatically, pushing her back gently with his shoulder. 

Padmé rubbed her arm in mock indignation. Normally, the push would be fine, but today, he was dressed like Romeo from the party scene of Romeo + Juliet, his shoulders were covered in silver knight’s armor. In Padmé’s opinion, he looked amazing—his shoulders _impossibly_ broad—but it did make him a bit dangerous to bump into. 

Padmé adjusted her halo with a huff. Her hands in her hair, she looked down at the bottom of the auditorium, and noticed Obi-Wan looking at Anakin. She lowered her hands from her halo slowly, watching his face in fascination, until the strength of her stare made his eyes slide past Anakin and meet hers. 

His gaze was charged but inscrutable, and after she blinked, he looked back to the front, his attention fixed back on the guest speaker, like he’d never looked back at all. Padmé thought he looked almost _angry_.

_Very interesting._

—

_Five months after graduation..._

Bail opened the door to his apartment and grinned, showing off his vampire teeth. “Velcome, you two! One friend, two friend, two friends! Velcome!” Breha sighed loudly behind him, making him wince. He stood aside and waved an arm, inviting them in.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly and let Anakin enter first, following behind and closing the door quickly behind him. His voice was very warm, despite the chill. “Hello Bail, Breha. We’ve brought some wine and cheese.”

“Excellent news,” Breha raised a speculative eyebrow, and Bail thought she made a rather fearsome witch. “Come with me, and we’ll get it on a plate.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, shrugging off his coat, revealing his ordinary teaching clothes, with no obvious costume. He kissed Anakin’s cheek and handed him his coat before trailing after Breha.

Bail pointed Anakin down the hallway and accompanied him to the guest bedroom-turned-coat room. He looked Anakin up and down, taking in his black clothes, his black nose and whiskers that seemed to have been drawn on in sharpie, and his headband with two black, triangle ears poking out of his hair. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Anakin grinned at him, tossing their coats on the pile. “Have you read the Golden Compass?”

“No,” Bail led him back towards the living room, shaking his head. “I believe I saw the movie in theaters, but I think I fell asleep.”

Anakin shuddered dramatically. “We do not speak of the movie. Do you remember what dæmons are?”

Bail thought back, and looked at Anakin’s costume again. “Animals, maybe? It was a long time ago.”

“Animals! Yes,” Anakin replied happily. He scanned the room, and Bail knew he was looking for Obi-Wan. “They’re animals but also like... souls, I guess. The animal represents the kind of person you are inside.”

“This way,” Bail said, taking pity on Anakin and leading him towards the kitchen. “So you’re Obi-Wan’s…” 

Anakin’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! He’s my person. I'm his dæmon.” 

“And so you’re a cat.” Bail laughed quietly, pushing open the kitchen door. He locked eyes with Breha and felt a surge of happiness. He remembered Anakin and checked to see that he was already staring very close to Obi-Wan, accepting a glass of wine. 

“You’re his dæmon?” Breha asked happily. “Obi-Wan didn’t explain. I assumed he just didn’t wear a costume, _again_.”

Anakin laughed. “You would be correct. But since it’s Golden Compass rules, he’s in character as some Oxford idiot, and I’m a cat, because he’s a cat inside.” 

Obi-Wan looked very satisfied, and handed Anakin a piece of cheese. 

Bail laughed. “I get it, I like it.”

Anakin grinned. “Thanks! _Somebody_ refused to wear a costume, so I had to get creative!”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I am wearing clothes, Anakin, what more do you want?”

Bail watched Anakin and Obi-Wan make meaningful eye contact and go silent for a moment, communicating through looks and sighs alone. He looked at his own wife, and she smiled, a whole sentence in her eyes. He nodded, and they left the two alone. 

Bail suspected that Anakin and Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice their exit for a while. The newlyweds didn’t have eyes for anyone else.

—

_One year and five months after graduation..._

Ahsoka grinned, evading a swing of Anakin’s lightsaber and taunting him dramatically, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Shut up, Padawan!” Anakin retorted, sliding slightly in his socks as he caught the answering strike of her lightsaber with a _crack_ of plastic on plastic.

“You’re not my Master!” She pouted at him as they locked blades. “That’s not fair. I’m a Jedi Knight too.”

“Fine,” Anakin rolled his eyes at her. “I suppose you can be a Knight.” He bore down with his saber, trying to push her back. 

Ahsoka huffed with frustration, her shoulders shaking with the strain of resisting. She’d put on a lot of muscle since she made varsity field hockey two months ago, but Anakin was _strong._

Despite her best efforts, his superior height and weight won out eventually. Ahsoka went on the defensive, backtracking as Anakin pursued her around the kitchen island. Both of them held back laughter as they traded a flurry of blows. 

She dodged Anakin's next swing instead of blocking, and the blue blade missed her nose by inches. Her eyes widened as she watched it instead connect with a fancy-looking vase sitting on the counter, ringing it like a bell. It wobbled dangerously and they both lunged for it, Anakin just managing to catch it with his free hand before it fell and shattered on the tile floor. 

Ahsoka’s heart pounded with a small rush of adrenaline. She would hate to see the look on Professor Kenobi’s face if he found out they had broken one of his _nice_ things while having a _lightsaber fight._

Anakin very gently replaced the vase on the counter, glancing up at the ceiling with a sheepish expression. Ahsoka giggled when she realized he shared her concern. He slowly grinned back at her, and they both fell into a silent fit of laughter.

Once she could breathe again, Ahsoka busied herself closing her lightsaber and hooking it back onto the belt of her polyester Jedi robe. Anakin did the same, seemingly in unspoken agreement that one near miss was more than enough. 

Anakin glanced out the window, and Ahsoka followed his gaze towards where the dipping sun just brushed the roof of her house. He asked, “Are we ready to go?” 

Ahsoka shook her head, swallowing down a wave of fresh excitement. She was still thrilled that Anakin had offered to take them to the corn maze. Of course her dad had been happy to as well, but...

“Barriss is meeting me here first, she’s gonna spend the night after!” 

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Fun.”

“Yeah, we’re going to watch a lot of scary movies.” Ahsoka said, feeling herself blush a little. She'd never watched a horror movie with Bariss before, and wondered if she was easily frightened. _Maybe she would need to hold Ahsoka's hand during the suspenseful bits, or even cling to_ —

“I think I see her car parking in front of your house.” Anakin's voice cut through her train of thought. “Let me go say goodbye to Obi-Wan, he’s staying here tonight.” He looked up at the ceiling again, this time with an almost longing expression. “He’s just thrilled he doesn’t have to wear a costume.”

Ahsoka watched him turn and head toward the stairs, and called after him, “Won’t you get the flu if you kiss him?”

“Uhhh, maybe.” Anakin shrugged, looking back at her with an innocent looking smile. “It doesn’t matter, I’d rather have the flu and keep kissing him than stop kissing him even for a day.”

Ahsoka fake-gagged loudly. “God, you guys are so gross. Haven’t you been married for like... years now?”

“So? We love each other.” A genuine smile touched Anakin's lips as he spoke, as if he was just realizing it for the first time, _again_. He turned back to the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Gross!” Ahsoka repeated, unable to stop herself from smiling after him. “Just the worst."

—

_Two years and five months after graduation..._

Anakin adjusted his devil horns and sighed. “Are you really sure you won’t dress up at all?” He looked at the pumpkin he just finished carving and back at Obi-Wan’s face. The likeness was not very good, but it had been fun to try. “I could find something easy for you. You could wear the cat ears I have.”

Obi-Wan gave him a pleading look, both his hands covered in pumpkin. “Please don’t make me, Anakin. You know I hate it.”

“ _Make_ you, I would never _make_ you.” Anakin felt appalled. “it’s supposed to be fun!”

“I think my regular clothes are plenty of fun.” Obi-Wan said, refocusing on his pumpkin and pursing his lips. 

Anakin barked a laugh at his put-upon expression. “I cannot take you seriously sometimes, Obi-Wan, oh my god.” 

Obi-Wan huffed at him, raising his voice defensively. “I’m hosting a party at my house! I decorated my house! That’s got to be good enough.”

Anakin gave him a look, taking in Obi-Wan’s rolled up sleeves, his slightly flushed cheeks, and his dishevelled hair. He felt a surge of arousal, and it carried into his voice. “Yes, _Professor_.”

“Don’t do that,” Obi-Wan warned, eyes flashing to meet Anakin’s before returning back to the pumpkin.

“What?” Anakin said, innocently. He set his pumpkin aside and moved closer, wiping his hands on a rag. “I’m not doing anything.”

Obi-Wan watched him approach, his voice tight. “We don’t have time for _that_.” 

“Are you sure?” Anakin asked, entering Obi-Wan’s personal space.

“Yes! Children could be at the door at any time, let alone our friends. I have to finish this and wash my hands.”

Anakin got to his knees, and shuffled forward until he was between Obi-Wan’s legs. He could see Obi-Wan’s cock, half-hard already and yet still so big. He ran his fingers over it, making Obi-Wan hiss. 

Anakin looked up, eyes wide. “C’mon, _Professor,_ you can finish in my mouth.”

“That’s definitely not what I meant by finish.” Obi-Wan said, looking at the clock. “Fine, but you have to hurry.”

“You can fuck my face then,” Anakin said cheerfully, unbuttoning Obi-Wan’s pants and pulling out his cock, which was flushed and thick, almost completely hard. He blew air on the sensitive tip. “You never last long when you do that.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said, voice strangled as Anakin swallowed his cock. “I can do that.”

—

_Three years and five months after graduation..._

Obi-Wan sighed, his brow furrowed with reluctant concentration as he adjusted the location of one of the pins holding his black chiton over his shoulders, trying to make it easier to move his arm. He finished and raised and lowered his arm, testing the security of the pins, and then sighed again when it held. 

He’d insisted that the costumes at least be period accurate, if he truly had to do this. It seemed like at least a _little_ liberty had been taken with the soft, heavy fabric of the chiton. He pinned and draped a dark gray himaton on top, appreciating the warmth and cover. 

Obi-Wan finished the ensemble with the winged, silver helmet in the bottom of the box. He studied the result in the long bedroom mirror, and frowned. “I don’t look good in hats.”

He heard Anakin answer from the bathroom across the hall, where he was finishing his outfit in secret, apparently wanting Obi-Wan to be surprised. “It’s not a _hat,_ _Erastēs_. It’s Hades’ Helm of Invisibility, and yes, you do. You look good in everything.”

“I wish it actually made me invisible,” Obi-Wan said in a harassed undertone. 

He hadn’t realized the stakes when he’d made the wager about the number of students who would drop Quinlan’s Latin 101 class by the end of the first month. He hadn’t expected Quinlan to keep almost all of them, and he probably deserved this punishment, just for being a bitter Hellenist used to appalling drop rates. 

_Ancient Greek looked harder but it wasn’t. People just never stuck around long enough to realize that. The alphabet was too intimidating._

Anakin finally came around the corner, and Obi-Wan felt a hot, leaping feeling in his stomach, a surge of something like panic. He swallowed, and looked again, eyes running up from the leather sandals on his feet to the flowers in his hair. Years of being married, and still Anakin could surprise him, take his breath away.

“How does it look? I think it’s neat.” Anakin turned in a circle, showing off his Persephone outfit—his arms bare, shoulders and collarbones peeking out beneath the pins, a wreath of what looked like real flowers crowning his hair, more flowers hanging around his neck, and _for fuck’s sake_ around his wrists. His brown leather sandals had straps that wound around his ankles and calves, up almost to his knees. 

The heavy woolen fabric of his _short_ peplos was pinned at his shoulders, falling to just above his knees, and was belted to draw attention to his slender waist. The wool was as green as fresh shoots of grass in springtime, and the color somehow made Anakin’s skin seem luminous. As he walked, a slit in the skirt showed off his strong thigh, drawing attention to his long legs. 

He looked like a statue brought to life, and Obi-Wan suddenly had a pang of sympathy for Pygmalion. “You are not wearing that.”

Anakin blinked at him, startled. “What? Why? You lost a bet, we have to.”

Obi-Wan waved a hand at his bare legs in indignation. “You’re supposed to be in a peplos. I thought a peplos was ankle length.”

“That’s only the Ionian peplos, _Professor._ ” Anakin answered back as if Obi-Wan was giving him a quiz, and Obi-Wan tried to ignore a spike of arousal. He didn’t know where to look, his eyes trying to take it all in at once. “This is a _Dorian_ peplos. Spartan women wore them. Kit Fisto insisted I wear it. Something about Persephone probably showing some thigh.”

Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his temples. “And where did you get the crown?”

“Plo gave it to me, but he said the whole Department chipped in for the flowers.”

“Did he? Did they?” Obi-Wan asked with a groan. He ran a hand down his face, smoothing his beard and trying to get level, but it was hard to do. Anakin’s skin seemed to gleam, as if it’d been recently oiled. Obi-Wan could smell him, faintly—the flowers in his hair, whatever sweet-smelling oil he’d rubbed in his skin. He murmured, “I will not survive this.”

“Why?” Anakin cocked his head to the side, a smile growing wider. “You’re still on about this?”

Obi-Wan blushed a little and looked back into the mirror, fiddling with the wrap of his himaton. “People will be looking at you.”

“They look at me all the time,” Anakin said gently, coming up between Obi-Wan and the mirror, kissing his cheek. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and clung on tight, making Obi-Wan grumble. Anakin hugged him tighter, and murmured, “You know you don’t have to worry. It doesn’t matter if they look.”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, rubbing a hand up and down Anakin’s spine and letting the flowers and his familiar scent fill him with warmth. “I know, my Anankē. I know it doesn’t matter.”

“But it still bothers you?” Anakin relaxed against him, his voice full of understanding.

Obi-Wan kissed his neck, and spoke quietly against his skin, his eyes closed. “Yes, I think it always will. I see their eyes when they look at you, and I see them _imagining_ things, _wanting_ things, things that are mine. I want them to stop.”

Anakin sighed and pulled back, “You can’t control what they think, _Erastēs_. You have to ignore them and keep your eyes on me, not the people around me.” He walked over to the box on the bed, looking for his himaton. “I promise I’m only ever looking at you.”

Obi-Wan stared at his back, and then sighed. “I’ll do better. You look beautiful, _paidika_.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said, his eyes and voice full of sincerity. “I love you.” He picked up the pale pink himaton that came in the box and raised an eyebrow, bringing it toward the mirror.

“I love you too,” Obi-Wan answered with equal sincerity, his gaze pulled down as Anakin moved. He spoke again, voice slightly strangled. “You really cannot wear that.” 

Anakin sighed, trying to drape the cloak the right way with limited success. “We just went over this.” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me being jealous. This is about your cock, and how I can see it through the fabric.”

Anakin glanced down, and then grinned, giving Obi-Wan a mischievous look. “Do you want to know why?”

“Why,” Obi-Wan said flatly, without patience. His own cock was growing achingly hard, and it was making him irritated. “You cannot go out like that.”

“No, I can’t,” Anakin agreed. He smiled again, more deviously, and began to pull the soft green fabric up his thigh. “I had hoped you would notice, maybe help me take care of my problem.” 

Obi-Wan felt like he couldn’t breathe as the fabric rose, until suddenly it was high enough that all he saw was the naked skin of Anakin’s hard cock. He snapped, “Are you not wearing—” Anakin sucked in a surprised breath when Obi-Wan stepped closer, hand sliding up the back of Anakin’s thigh to brush his bare ass. “You’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Anakin murmured, sliding his legs apart slightly, inviting Obi-Wan’s hand to keep moving up. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers brushed Anakin’s entrance and then stopped, stroking again with more pressure. “Are you…” He stroked Anakin’s sensitive skin again, appreciating the glide of his fingers with the warm oil coating his skin. He pushed in a finger slightly, making Anakin gasp. Obi-Wan spoke roughly, almost an accusation, “You prepared yourself for me.”

“Yes,” Anakin whispered, and then whimpered when Obi-Wan teased him with the tip of a finger circling his ready hole. “I’d wanted you to fuck me before we went to the party, but I knew you would say we didn’t have enough time.”

“You needn’t have worried,” Obi-Wan said, pulling his hand away. Anakin made a face like he was about to protest, when Obi-Wan spun him around and pushed him toward the bed. “I would have wanted to make sure you had my come inside you before we left anyway, looking like that. I would have settled for your mouth, though, you’re right. Bend over.”

Anakin leaned forward onto the bed, spreading his legs. He looked back over his shoulder, meeting Obi-Wan’s intent stare with wide eyes. “I wanted you to—”

“Fuck you in the ass, yes, I understand. You didn’t want to swallow my come, you wanted it dripping down your thighs, is that right?” Obi-Wan said, voice low.

Anakin just whined in response, his legs spreading wider, his back arching to press his hips back. Obi-Wan pushed the fabric of Anakin's chiton up, appreciating how the back of his thighs met the curve of his ass, the golden skin exposed higher and higher until he could see his slick, pink entrance.

Obi-Wan kicked off his own underwear and pulled up his own chiton, his cock bare and hard. 

“Did you finger yourself enough, darling? Are you ready?” Obi-Wan asked, one hand holding up his chiton, the other pressing the head of his cock against Anakin’s ass. Anakin just whined and rocked his hips back, and Obi-Wan pulled his cock back, his voice husky. “Answer me, _paidika_.”

“I’m ready, you can—” Anakin's words choked off as Obi-Wan pushed in the tip of his cock. “—fuck me, yes, thank you!”

Obi-Wan groaned at the tight, slick, heat of Anakin’s ass. He pushed in easily, Anakin having made himself perfectly ready. Anakin rocked back against him, and Obi-Wan gripped his hip and thrust forward harder, sliding his cock all the way inside and exhaling loudly. “Fuck, Anakin.”

“Fuck,” Anakin agreed, rocking his hips again. “Feel so good.” 

“Yes, _paidika_.” Obi-Wan fucked him slowly, moving in and out, speeding up. He flexed his grip on Anakin’s hip, tipping his hips back slightly and then fucked in hard, pressing exactly where he knew would make Anakin groan. 

Anakin groaned, “How do you always…”

“You’re mine,” Obi-Wan said, his breathing heavy. “I know what you like. Mine, Anankē.” He felt like his speech was losing coherence even faster than normal, but it felt so good as he fucked Anakin harder, the force of it pounding Anakin forward, his back swaying more and more. “Touch yourself.”

Anakin whimpered in response, a hand jumping to his cock, moving quickly. “Yes, _Professor_.”

Obi-Wan fucked him harder, almost growling. The flowers in Anakin’s hair smelled so sweet, his sweat and his skin. Obi-Wan felt like he was losing rhythm too fast. “You’re perfect, _paidika_ , I’m going to come now, fill you up.” 

Anakin made a sound of approval, his hand moving even faster on his cock to keep pace. “Please, _Professor_ , I’m yours, only, _always_ , yours.”

“Mine,” Obi-Wan agreed, his hips stuttering as he came. His fingers tightened and eyes closed, the pleasure radiating as he spilled his come deep inside. He groaned as he felt Anakin begin to come too, his body tightening even further. “Good, Anakin, so good.”

They were perfectly still for a moment, catching their breath. Obi-Wan glanced at the clock and laughed at himself. “Didn’t take too long, actually.”

Anakin slumped forward completely, a dreamy look still on his face. “It was perfect.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Hold still, I’m going to clean you up.”

“Yes,” Anakin said agreeably. “I don’t want to move at all.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan muttered, opening the small drawer on the bedside table. He extracted some wipes, aware of Anakin’s eyes on his face.

He came back, and looked with satisfaction at the way his come looked on Anakin’s ass. He wished he could leave it, but knew he couldn’t. He sighed, and began cleaning him up properly.

He wiped Anakin's hand clean, and Anakin spoke again, sounding a little more coherent. “I can’t believe you fucked me with a helmet on, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan realized that was the case, suddenly aware of the weight on his head and grinned. “I didn’t think to take it off. I was a little preoccupied.”

“Sure,” Anakin hummed as Obi-Wan pulled him upright and walked him to the dresser. He nodded at the pair of underwear Obi-Wan picked, and put them on. 

Obi-Wan helped him readjust the crown of flowers on his head and the drape of his soft pink cloak. “Are you ready to go, Anankē?”

“Yes, Professor. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They made it to the party, late and a little rumpled, but nobody was _too_ upset at them about it.
> 
> This could not have been done without [septemberist](theseptemberist.tumblr.com) who wrote a wonderful Ahsoka, I am so grateful for her help.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Say hi on my [tumblr](https://intermundia.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Someday, I may even write slow burn lol we'll see if I develop the skills for UST somehow


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